To Each His Own
by rjr60
Summary: Scarlett and Rhett discover that their life together is not as peaceful as they had hoped. An old enemy returns, bringing new dangers to family and friends.
1. Chapter 1

**The Drums Of War**

* * *

Young Doctor Joe stretched slowly, hearing the sound of old bones creak as he did. He remembered the day (so long ago now!) when he had told the group gathered at Pine Bloom for the birth of Aunt Scarlett's twin boys that he would be known as Young Doctor Joe until he dropped dead of old age. Well, he hadn't dropped yet, but he was plenty old, and his friends and family, the people who knew him well,_ still _called him Young Doc.

"How you doing, boy?" he called into the other room. "Need me to come show you how it's done?"

Joey laughed. "Not likely, old man. I've worked at the diner after school for two years; scrambling some eggs and making toast isn't anything new to me."

"So you say," Young Doc snorted. "But I don't see no food on the table."

"Just hold your horses. I'm coming," Joey said, entering the room and setting two plates on the table. You want juice, Pops? There's grape, or orange."

"Naw, just a glass of water, if you don't mind. Seems like juice sours on my stomach anymore, like a lot of things I used to enjoy."

"Might ought to get that checked out,"Joey said, handing him a glass of ice water. For himself, he had a huge glass of orange juice; Young Doc could see the bits of pulp clinging to the side. A sudden memory of the apple jack his uncle had passed around to celebrate the birth of those twins hit him, and he remembered how _good_ it had tasted on his parched tongue, the sweet, apple-y tang of the cider followed by the sharper kick of the alcohol.

He sighed. He'd never taste that again, either. He hadn't seen any apple jack in years; he didn't think anyone even made it any more.

"So, Young Doc... there's something I need to talk to you about," Joey said after they had finished the simple meal. Young Doc raised an eyebrow.

"You don't say," he remarked. "And here I was, thinking that my eighteen year old great-grandson called me up on a Saturday evening, offering to get up early and come cook me Sunday breakfast, just 'cause he missed his old Pops."

Joey had the grace to flush. "I suppose it is a little obvious," he said.

As always, the shame on his face caused Young Doc to relent a little. "Well, that, and the fact that this ain't my first rodeo. I seen a lot of young'uns in my time. Raised six of my own, and your ma, too, after her daddy got killed on that oil rig out in Texas. So I've seen a bit of everything; it's not easy to put one over on me. And what you want to talk about is even plainer. I reckon there's been a lot of these little conversations, all across the country, this past week."

"You're probably right," Joey said.

"But even so, wasn't no reason for you to come to me," Young Doc said. "I aint your guardian, and even if I had been, you're a man grown now. The law says you're old enough to make up your own mind."

"Yeah, I know. But tell that to my mom."

Young Doc looked sharply at the boy. "Now, I've got to say, that a boy who can't stand up to his mama probably doesn't have any business going off to be a soldier," he said.

"I have stood up to her," Joey said back – and right sharpish, too, Young Doc thought with pride. A boy who wasn't a bit stung by the accusation of being a mama's boy wouldn't become much of a man, in the old man's opinion. "I've stood up to her this whole week. Then finally, yesterday, she said I should come to you for advice, and if you agreed, she'd accept it. That's why, when I called, I asked if you had heard from her this week. I wanted to make sure she hadn't fixed the deal in advance."

"Well, I haven't talked to her," Young Doc said. "And even if I had, I wouldn't have agreed to give you anything less than my honest opinion. Thought you'd have known that, boy."

"I do know," Joey said, looking down at his hands. "But you know Mom. She doesn't fight fair."

"And when have I ever given in to her tears?" Young Doc asked. "Isn't that the reason you've come to stay with me every summer and holiday since you were old enough to be given a choice – because I don't give in when she carries on to get her own way?"

"Yes," Joey answered. "Mostly, I agreed to come talk to you because I trust you to be fair. If you tell me it's a bad idea, you'll have a reason, and I'll listen to it. But if I don't agree, I don't promise to abide by it."

Young Doc nodded, but secretly, it pleased him. That was the attitude of a man, not a boy, and if he went off to fight in this new war that had just been declared, he would need to be a man.

"First, tell me why you want to enlist," Young Doc said.

"Well, part of it is being mad as hell. I mean, who wouldn't be? A sneak attack, on a sleepy Sunday morning when no one was expecting it? Hell, some of our guys didn't even make it out of their berthing compartments. They drowned in their bedrooms when their ship sank! And some of them were no older than I am. But there's more to it than that, Pops. It sounds sentimental to say it but...there really are things worth dying to defend. And I don't want to die, but I do want to defend those things. And that's why I feel like I need to join up."

Young Doc studied his great-grandson for a long moment. He remembered his young half-brother saying almost the same words to him, about another fight, in another part of the world. Tony had died on that far-away island, not of battle injuries but of yellow fever. But he had died doing what he believed was right, and once the first grief was over, Young Doc had never been able to regret letting him go.

He decided.

"Your ma sent you to me for advice," he said. "Well, listen up, 'cause here it is: keep your head down."

Joey waited. After a moment, he said, "That's it? Just 'keep your head down?'"

Young Doc raised his eyebrow. "You expected Will Rogers maybe? Okay, if you insist, here's what he says: '_One sure certainty about out Memorial days, is that as fast as the ranks from one war thin out, the ranks from another take their place.__'_That's what Will Rogers says, and I've lived long enough to know it's true, so _I_ say, 'keep your head down.'"

Joey studied his great-grandfather as though he had never seen him before.

"That's not what Mom expected you to say," he said.

Young Doc waved his hand carelessly. "Meh. Since when have I ever done what your ma expected?" He dismissed the idea casually. "Point is, I agree that there are things worth defending. I've known that for a long time. I lost my baby brother to one war, and my youngest son to another, and both believed fighting was the right thing to do. So hard as it was, I let them go do it. You believe that this is the right thing to do. I mean, you _really_ believe it, not just patriotic jingoism, or because the girls will love you in a uniform. So I don't have much choice but to let you go, too. It would be nice, however, to think you'll do better than your uncles and come back alive. So my advice is to keep your head down." He smirked a little at his great-grandson. "By the way, my baby brother reliably informed me that girls really _do _love a man in uniform."

"Pops!" Joey said, laughing a little. "I'm absolutely certain that _that's_ not the advice Mom had in mind."

"No, probably not," the old man agreed, tipping him a wink. "But that doesn't mean it's not a good thing to know."

"I guess not," Joey said. "So, that's it? You'll tell Mom to get off my back?"

"I'm not in charge of your ma anymore," Young Doc said, and a faint hint of regret could be heard as he continued, "not that I'm all that sure I was ever really in charge of her even when I was. If you know what I mean. Your ma always went her own way; in that she was just like her great-great grandma, Scarlett. Did I ever tell you about her, boy?"

"Some," Joey said. "Mostly 'cause of that movie. The one you said was based on her life."

"The _book_ is based on her life," Young Doc said sternly. "The movie...well, it's good, but it skips some things. Important things. If I give you a copy of the book, will you read it?"

Joey looked startled. "I guess I could. But why? I'm not a big reader of historical romances, Pop."

"Because it's mostly true, although Margaret Mitchell did take some liberties." Young Doc said. "And because I want us to go to my cabin and spend a couple of days next week, so I can tell you about the past. When we come back, I want to go to see the movie with you, and after that, I'll go with you to the recruiting office, and you can sign up with my blessing."

"I guess we can do that," Joey said. "If it's so important to you."

"It is," Young Doc said. "I'm eighty years old, boy, and you're going off to fight in a war that any fool can see is going to take a while. I believe you'll come back all right, I really do, but I also believe there's a good chance I won't be here to see it. So before you go, I want to tell you the stories, so that maybe someday you can pass them down to your kids, and they won't be lost forever. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I do," Joey said, awkward as young folk always were with emotion and thoughts of death. "So I'll plan on next week at the cabin, and then we'll go see the movie. I read in the paper that it's real long, almost four hours."

"We'll make the time," the old man said, patting his arm.

* * *

They had packed the back of the old Model A Ford roadster with camping equipment. Joey had always loved these trips with his Pop, going off in the woods for a few days of roughing it. Of course, it wasn't really all that rough; Young Doc, recognizing that he was an old man and not wanting to risk harm to Joey, had put some money into a few choice upgrades. There was a propane generator that could supply them with electric lights and hot running water; there was even a built-in propane heater that kept the cabin snug in even the coolest North Georgia weather. Often, there were camping trips where none of these luxuries were used, but they were there if needed.

_Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to use the heat at least,_ Joey thought, glancing at his great-grandfather with concern. _The old man didn't look sick, exactly; he just looked frailer than in the old days, like he was feeling his years. _Joey tried to imagine what it would be like to be eighty years old and feeling your body give out on you, and discovered that he couldn't, not really. The things he told himself about old age were just words; they wouldn't be real to him for many years to come. If ever.

"Well, what you lollygagging around for?" Young Doc asked, standing beside the old car. "We got stuff to unload, and here you sit, daydreaming."

"Just wondering if I can still beat you three games out of four at dominoes, old man," Joey said, hopping out of the car and going around to help bring in the boxes.

"Hmmph. Like I said, daydreaming," the old man said, laughing his thin, cackling laughter. "What's really going to happen is that I'm going to whip you so bad you'll wish you'd stayed home – just like I always have."

The unloading didn't take long; the two had long ago developed the ability to work in tandem. Soon the groceries were stored, the sleeping bags unrolled, the cooler full of icy bottles of coca-cola (and grape Nehi – Joey's personal favorite since childhood) stashed in the corner of the kitchen. Joey lit the propane heater – not asking, just turning to the task as if it were part of their normal routine. The fact that the old man didn't irritably tell him to leave it be probably said more than any words could about how uncomfortable sleeping in the cold and damp would be on his old bones.

Once he accomplished that task, Joey stood and dusted off his hands. Grinning down at his great-grandfather, he said,"Well, Pops? You want supper now, or should I set up the dominoes?"

Young Doc smiled up at him. "I think a little taste of victory will spice my supper up real good," he said. "Set up the game, boy, and get ready for me to leave you in the dust."

* * *

**Well, what do you think of the first chapter? I realize we haven't gotten to people we really want to hear from yet, Rhett and Scarlett and all of their family and friends. But starting in the next chapter, Young Doctor Joe is going to have a surprising tale to tell about the events that occurred long ago, when he was a young man. I just needed to set up the background, so you would know who he was telling this story to, and why.  
**

**Please review if you have any comments or questions. I always love to hear from you. And as always, thanks so much for reading. It makes writing so much more fun to know that someone is interested.**


	2. The Story Begins

**The Story Begins**

* * *

Once dinner was over, Joey expected to spend the rest of the evening playing dominoes, but his grandfather had a different plan. Instead of remaining at the kitchen table, the old man relaxed on the big sofa the two of them had brought up here a few years back, when it became obvious that sitting on the ground or the crude camp chairs was no longer a viable option for Young Doc. It took up the entire wall opposite the heater, but it was comfortable for the old man, and they took the cushions back home in between visits so that mice or mildew wouldn't get at them.

"When you're done with the clean-up, boy, hand me that box that we brought up, would you?" Young Doc asked. "The small wooden one. We put it in the other room, I think."

As he worked, Joey hummed a tune he remembered from an old Ginger Rogers movie his mother had taken him to see. _We're in the money_ hadn't impressed him then; at ten, he had been too young to appreciate the dancing of Ginger Rogers, much less the scantily clad girls with her. But he was older, now, and he and some friends had gone a few nights ago to see a stage production based on the original. It had been much more risqué than the movie version preferred by his mother, and he had enjoyed it immensely, but now the catchy tune echoed endlessly in his head.

It took only a few minutes to wash the dishes they had used. Joey poured the rest of the basin of hot, soapy water into the pan he had used to heat the beans on the primus stove; some of them had stuck to the bottom, and they could soak a little while he talked to Pops. Wiping his hands dry on one of the old shop rags they used for dish towels, he turned to the back room and, after a little fumbling in the dimly lit room, retrieved the box the old man had carried in.

It was not a huge box, but it was heavier than he had expected, and he let out an exaggerated grunt as he set it down beside his great-grandfather. "What's in there, anyway? Rocks?" he asked, taking a seat on the far side of the sofa.

"Cream puff," the old man said without malice. "The drill sergeants are going to have their work cut out for them with you."

"What are you talking about? I have more muscle than I know what to do with."

"Hush up now, boy, I've got a story to tell you," the old man said. Joey took a drink from his grape Nehi and settled back. Even as a child, he had loved Young Doc's stories, most of which he claimed were true. Joey took that with a grain of salt, especially since he was all grown up now, but there was no denying that the old man could tell an entertaining tale.

"Did you read that book I gave you?" the old man asked.

"Gone With The Wind? Sure, I read it. There were some good parts in it; I liked the scene where they were leaving Atlanta as it burned. It was sad, though, how poor they got after the war, and how the renegade soldiers terrorized them. Did it really happen?"

The old man nodded. "It did. Margaret may have gotten a few of the details wrong, and she may have prettied things up a little, here and there, the way women do, but the basic story was accurate. It was about your great-great-grandmother, whose birth name was Scarlett O'Hara."

"So she really did exist?" Joey took a drink of his grape soda. "Huh. Great-great-grandma Scarlett. Did you know her, Pops? Sounds like she was an interesting lady."

Young Doc snorted. "Interesting is one word for it. Aunt Scarlett had more gumption than a dozen men, and more sense than most of them. Just like in the book, she came from having almost nothing after the war, to being a wealthy lady. This cabin sits on land only a few miles from where Tara, the plantation Scarlett's family ran, used to be, but this was the Fontaine's land. Mimosa, we called it."

"Did you grow up here?"

"I did. My father, the man you and I are both named after, died in the war, without ever setting eyes on me; a few years later, my ma married his brother, Alex Fontaine. It was a marriage of convenience; my grandmother, who had lived with them, died of a fever, and they couldn't stay alone in the house together. Even today, that would cause a scandal, and it was worse, back then. So they married, and after a while, I believe they came to love each other. Not what my mother and father might have had, maybe, but they were happy together, and had four more children."

"Was your stepfather really in love with your mom's sister first? That's what it says in the book."

"I never got up the gumption to ask him," Young Doc said. "My uncle was a good man, don't get me wrong, but he had a quick temper, and a hard hand. The combination of the two meant that I always thought twice before saying anything that he might think was back-talk, and after I was grown and married, it never seemed worth risking the trouble to ask. The only thing I know for sure is that he courted her, both before and after the war, and Uncle Alex was not a casual man. We never saw my aunt at Mimosa, I can say that. I never met Aunt Dimity but once, when I was about ten, and Mama took me to Savannah for a visit. It didn't go well, and we never went back, and she never visited us."

"Did she ever marry?" Joey asked.

"Oh, yes. In fact, she did pretty well for herself. The man she married was a colonel in the Confederate army, and came from a wealthy Savannah family. After the war, he rebuilt what they had lost and more. They had three children, and Dimity never wanted for anything, as far as I know."

"Except maybe Uncle Alex," Joey said, and the old man shrugged.

"Except maybe Uncle Alex."

"So, you said that I'm Scarlett's descendent, too. How did that come about?"

"Scarlett had a daughter, Ella -"

"She's in the book," Joey said, nodding.

"Well, Ella married an Englishman, and they had four children. Ella's oldest daughter, Lorena Scarlett, had a son. That son, Franklin Rhett Buckman, was your father. He came over to this country right after the Great War – he just missed being old enough for the fighting – and looked up some of his mama's kin. He met Annette – your mama, Joey – and nothing would do for either of them but they get married. She was only sixteen, so I could have said no, but that would have meant locking her in a closet until he was gone, and I didn't have the heart to do it. They married in December of '21, and by the next summer, Annie was carrying you. They were very happy, and then he died in that airplane accident. He was always so reckless...after that, nothing was the same for your mother..." Young Doc shrugged, uncomfortable with talking of emotions.

"And that's how I got to be related to Scarlett O'Hara," Joey said, frowning pensively.

"That's how," Young Doc confirmed.

"So how did Margaret Mitchell come to write down Scarlett's story?" Joey asked. "How did she even find out about it?"

"I told her," Young Doc said.

"You told Scarlett's story to Margaret Mitchell? When did you even meet her, much less spend enough time with her to tell her this _huge_ story?" Joey was incredulous.

"Well, I'm not her only source," Young Doc said. "But I'm the one who got her interested in the story of the civil-war era southern belle who had such an interesting life. After that, she talked to other people, a lot of them. Some I introduced her to; some she found for herself. Burl, for instance; I'd lost track of him over the years, but she found him, living in Detroit with his grandson who worked in a factory where they made some kind of car parts that they sold to Ford. Made good money, for a colored man."

"Wait, who's Burl? What does he have to do with the story?"

"Burl was Dilcey and Pork's son, Beau's milk-brother. Dilcey nursed the both of them, after Scarlett brought Melanie back to Tara, and I imagine that she saved Beau's life. I wasn't there, of course, but from what I remember of her later, Miss Melanie was not a woman who was designed for children, either having or nurturing, in a physical sense. They say she was an excellent mother, and that she always wanted more children, but she ended up dying in childbirth. Sad." He sighed. "Anyway, Margaret talked to everyone she could find who knew Scarlett; she even went to England and talked to one of Ella's sons. She talked to everyone she could find, and then she wrote the story."

"So, Young Doc, how did you happen to know Margaret Mitchell, anyway?"

Young Doc looked a little sheepish. "Well, at first she was a patient," he admitted. "She came to me in 1926, complaining of residual pain from a broken ankle. I had some success treating her, and she started coming to see me quite regularly. I met her at the park down the street from my offices one afternoon just by chance, and there we started talking for the first time about things outside of her health. She said that she was thinking of writing a novel, to take her mind off of the ankle, perhaps a civil war novel, and I told her the story of Scarlett, my aunt by marriage. She reminded me a lot of Scarlett; she had the same... charisma, for want of a better word. The ability to charm effortlessly. I told her everything I knew about Scarlett, including things that really should never have gone outside the family."

Joey looked at the older man. "Were you in love with her?" he asked. The thought of his great-grandfather, who had been old for as long as Joey had been alive, being in love, was ludicrous, but Joey thought he saw a certain gleam in his eye, anyway.

"No," Young Doc said. "It wasn't like that. She wasn't interested in me as a lover; I was thirty years older than she was, and she was married, for two reasons, but she respected my abilities as a doctor – I had managed to relieve some of her pain – and she was interested in the story. We've stayed in touch, off and on, over the years, and that's where this comes in." He tapped the wooden box that sat on the sofa between them.

"So...what is that?" Joey asked.

Young Doc smiled. "The rest of the story," he told his grandson. "The part she never published."

* * *

**A couple of reviewers expressed doubts that a story written from Young Doctor Joe's point of view could tell the kind of intimate family story that the readers want when it comes to GWTW fiction. I agree, but that's not the plan. The plan was to have a box... and now you know what's in it. Which solves the P.O.V. problem.  
**

**I'm sorry this is so short. The next chapter will be the end of Joey and Young Doc in 1941, and the beginning of the real story, back with Rhett and Scarlett, but I wanted to get this up today, because tomorrow is going to be really busy, so no update. Maybe Thursday.**

**I thought it was interesting to make Joey a descendent of both Scarlett and Young Doc. What do you think? Please review, and let me know if you think that having the story supposedly written by MM herself solves the P.O.V. problem well enough.**


	3. Inside the Box

**Inside the Box**

* * *

"Go ahead," Young Doctor Joe said, handing him a small brass key. "Open it."

The lock turned easily and the lid lifted smoothly, indicating that the hinges (brass butterfly, Joey noticed absently)had been kept oiled. Noticing the exact fit and the carefully made dovetail joints, Joey asked, "Is this one of Uncle Beau's boxes?"

"Yes, one of his earliest. It was the first time he ever used dovetails for the corners; it took him a month to smooth them and glue them the way he wanted, but he did a good job. Box lasted longer than he did, by a goodly number of years. He gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday, more than sixty years ago, now. I keep it polished, and oil the hinges and the lock every now and then, and it works just fine as a place to keep important papers. For the last few years, what I've kept in here are – these."

Inside the box were three large manilla envelopes, and a smaller white envelope with Young Doc's name and address written in heavy, barely legible script. There was no stamp or postmark. Joey studied them, his foxy face intent.

"This is the letter that she sent in the package with the manuscripts. Take it out and read it aloud, boy, so we can hear what she says. It's been a couple of years since I've looked at any of this."

Joey pulled the latter carefully from the envelope, noting the heavy, expensive paper as he did so. Perfume teased his nose, a flower remembered, as he unfolded the single sheet.

_"__July 5, 1935_

_ "Atlanta, Georgia_

* * *

_ "__My Dear Young Doctor Joe, _

_ "I thought you'd like to know that I finished the novel. It's going to be published by Macmillan Company, and after many delays, a final (I hope!) publication date has been set for June 30, 1936. I am a bit disappointed because they only wanted the first part of the book; you are barely mentioned in the section that they have chosen, since it covers the time when you were a boy._

_ "I've sent the manuscript of the rest of the book to you, as I thought you might care to read it. I included all three sections that they're not going to publish, but your adventure with Wade and Beau is in the last part, which I have titled, To Each His Own. You're lucky that Macmillan did consider all of it, because they typed it up neatly for you; 300 pages of my hen-scratching would be enough to cause permanent blindness! I hope you enjoy reading my interpretation of events; I'd love to know what you think, since all the feedback I've gotten so far is negative, (i.e. it would be too long to publish, it dilutes the impact of the early novel)._

_ "There is talk of making a movie out of the first part of the book. Johnny says he thinks Errol Flynn would make a good Rhett Butler, but I'm not sure of that. Too bad Rudy Valentino isn't around to play the part; he'd be a natural, because that's who I always thought of when I wrote about Rhett. Clark Gable, perhaps? I like him for the role better than Flynn, who has always seemed a bit of a light-weight to me._

_ "Anyway, the name of the book/movie is Gone With the Wind. It's from the third stanza of a poem by Ernest Dowson called 'Non Sum Qualis eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae.' I'm sure you know it, because you're so well-read, so I won't quote it to you, but I wracked my brain about it for weeks, and that's what I came up with. Hope you think it's appropriate, too!_

_ With great fondness,_

_Margaret."_

"Wow," Joey said. "I guess you really do know her. 'With great fondness,' she says."

Young Doc glared at him. "You mean you didn't believe me?" he asked.

Joey shrugged. "I took it with a grain of salt," he said, as tactfully as he could. "I mean, people tell you things about knowing famous people all the time. There's an English boy in one of my classes who claims to know Laurence Olivier. It might be true but I'd need some evidence to believe it."

"Well, there's your evidence for my claims. Three manuscripts, all of them written by Margaret Mitchell about your family."

"Can I read them?" Joey asked. The old man laughed.

"That's why I brought them. We're going to be here for a couple of days. It's December; there's no hunting, it's too cold to fish, and there are only so many games of dominoes and checkers that I can beat you at before it gets old. You'll have lots of time to read."

"I'll start now," Joey said. "Which one are you in? That's the part that I'm interested in."

"I'm in the last two, but mostly the very last one. The one called 'To Each His Own.' In the one before that, I only make a cameo appearance to deliver a pair of babies, and I'm not in the first one at all."

"I'll start at the end, then," Joey said decisively. The old man started to protest, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said. "Myself, I think I'm going to cover up with a quilt and take a nap. Put that box on the floor, would you, Joey?"

Joey did. Grabbing the third neatly labeled manilla envelope, he removed the manuscript inside. Deciding that he needed a comfortable place to read as well, he spread both sleeping bags out on the floor. Providing himself with a grape soda and a pillow, he lowered himself into a prone position atop the sleeping bags. He positioned the kerosene lamp so that he had good visibility, turned the first page, and began to read.

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

The trouble began, as trouble in the Butler household so often did, with Katie and Lanie.

The two girls rarely set out to start trouble. As Scarlett told Rhett one evening as they sat together on the porch swing, "It would be easier to stay mad at them, if they did it on purpose."

"Or if they didn't often have so much right on their side. Particularly Katie," Rhett answered, rubbing his thumb slowly over the palm of her hand.

Scarlett found herself relaxing under the caress, light as it was.

"She just has no sense," Scarlett said. "She sees someone doing something wrong, teasing an animal or hurting one of the younger kids, and she jumps in with both feet, never stopping to think if she has any chance of winning, or even considering if she might get hurt herself."

"Very true," Rhett replied.

"And the worst thing about it is that the older boys, the Fontaine cousins and their friends, egg her on. They think it's funny to have such a little firebrand for a cousin. The girls have that Fontaine temper, both of them!"

Rhett laughed.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"You don't think it might be just a bit of the O'Hara temper?" he asked, gently mocking. Scarlett stared at him, at first in outrage, then in gradually increasing acceptance.

"Oh, well, now that you mention it... they might be just a little bit like my father," she said, smiling reluctantly.

"Like your _father_? Scarlett, those two girls are you made over again, there's no other way to look at it. The reason you don't want to admit it is because you know how much trouble those same traits got you into, and you want something different for them."

"I just don't want them to cause themselves so much pain, the way I did," she admitted quietly.

"I know you don't," Rhett said, frowning a little as he considered. "Just like I have a harder time dealing with Gene than I do Gerry... he's so much like me. I've done some thinking about it, though, and I've come up with an idea for how to deal with it."

"What idea?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She and Rhett both tended to be people of action, rather than people who thought much about things.

"I talked it over with Wade, too, and he agrees with me. Scarlett, if you could go back in time to your childhood and speak to your parents, what would be the main thing that you would tell them about how to raise you better?"

"Well," Scarlett floundered for a moment, then recovered. "I suppose I'd tell them that it wasn't fair for them to put all the troubles of their life on my shoulders, both of them raising me in what they thought was the proper mold, without looking to see what would be best for me. Mother wanted her daughters to be perfect little ladies, and never took into consideration my lack of aptitude for that role. She never taught me anything useful, or acknowledged how smart I was, except to tell me not to let people see, because they wouldn't like me if they did."

"And your father?" Rhett asked. His hand tightened around hers, and she gripped his fingers, the only sign she gave of how much this conversation upset her.

"My father... wanted a son. So when I was with him, he let me be all the things I naturally was – smart, energetic, competitive – because those were the traits of a boy... but he also taught me that it was all right to lie and sneak around about it, to find ways to deceive Mother and Mammy. So later, it didn't bother me so much to lie to other people. I even got pretty good at it! It never worked with you, though."

"Like recognizes like darling, and you and I are a lot alike; I've always told you that." Rhett said, his tone light. As she almost always did when Rhett joked with her, Scarlett smiled, and turned to him.

"So what do you recommend?" she asked. "How should we behave differently with our twins – both sets of them?"

"I think we should begin by acknowledging the good aspects of their behavior," Rhett said, stroking his mustache. "We should tell Katie, for instance, that wanting to protect her little brother from bullies bigger than him is a good thing. We agree with it, and admire her for feeling that way. But -" he overrode Scarlett's attempt to interrupt him, "- we also tell her that there are better ways to handle the problem, things she should try before she pushes a bigger boy. Not only did she get in trouble for fighting, but when her sister and cousins saw the bully push her back, a free-for-all started on the school playground, and now everyone is in trouble!"

"Yes," Scarlett said with a sigh. "Even Hetty Tarleton, who was a tomboy once herself, couldn't overlook that. Four black eyes, three bloody noses, two sprained thumbs, and one split lip."

"And a partridge in a pear tree," Rhett muttered. Scarlett giggled.

"Yes, but Rhett, it's really not a joke. The girls could have been badly hurt, if their cousins hadn't happened to be there."

"And they won't always be. Next year, the biggest of their boy cousins will have left school, and the year after, there will only be Tony left. So the girls need to learn a different way to deal with things now, before they have no back-up."

"And how are we supposed to teach them?" Scarlett asked, pursing her lips dubiously.

"We need to talk to them, of course, but we also need to show them examples of ways we've dealt with bullies without resorting to violence. How you handled Watt Myers, for example; he's nothing but polite to you, now, and sells feed to you at a reasonable price -"

"And hates my guts! If I ever go missing and turn up dead in the swamp, he'd be the first person that would need to be questioned!"

"That's the point, Scarlett! What you need to show your girls is that there's a way to deal with people that doesn't involve violence, but gets you what you want anyway."

"Part of what I want, anyway," she muttered. Rhett quirked an inquiring eyebrow. "Shooting him would have been lots of fun," she said. Rhett roared with laughter, and after a moment, Scarlett joined him.

* * *

Upstairs, in the room the twin sisters shared, the girls heard the laughter. Lanie looked at Katie with a satisfied smile. "Papa has talked Mama into a happier mood," Lanie said. "Just like he always does. We'll be all right now."

* * *

**Sorry I didn't get this out yesterday like I tried to. I had to work and rework the last part of this chapter, trying to get the right tone.  
**

**In case you wondered, this starts when the youngest set of twins is five; they have just started school. Katie and Lanie are twelve.**

**Please review and let me know how you like it. I always love to hear from you!**


	4. Katie Goes to Town

**Katie Goes to Town**

* * *

When the buggy stopped in front of the house, Scarlett waved at Burl cheerfully. "I just need to get Katie and we'll be ready," she told him. Turning to the open front door, she called to her youngest daughter. "Katie? Are you ready? Burl is here with the buggy."

Katie appeared in the doorway, trailed by her morose older sister. "I'm ready, Mama," Katie said. She had changed into a clean dress, as her mother had requested; in addition, she had washed her face and hands and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Left to herself, Katie was much tidier than her elder sister.

"Can I go, Mama?" Lanie asked hopefully. Scarlett shook her head.

"No, dearest. Your sister and I need to have a private chat, and this will be a good time to do it. Besides, there is a small matter of the five hundred neatly written repetitions of 'I will not fight on the playground' that you are supposed to hand in tomorrow. Since you are not finished with them, you can put the time alone to good use. I want you up in your room until you finish with them, and you must show them to Papa before you can go downstairs. Or outside."

"How do you know that I'm not finished with them?" Lanie asked.

Scarlett smiled. "Because I know you, darling. You don't want to do it in the first place, and so you've put it off until the last possible moment, which is now. Now scat!"

With a theatrical sigh, Lanie turned and slouched off to her room. Scarlett looked down at her youngest daughter. "Are you ready, dear?"

"Yes, Mama," Katie answered. "Where are we going?"

"To town," Scarlett answered. "Today, I'm going to take you to the feed store."

"The feed store?" Katie asked, puzzled. "I don't think I've ever been there before."

"No," her mother agreed. "I've kept you away from it on purpose, but today I think it's time I take you there. I want you to see something."

* * *

Katie had seen the feed warehouse before, of course. It was by far the largest building in Jonesboro, a sprawling three-story giant in a land of pygmies. That was Katie's thought; she recently had read a fearfully good book about a land inhabited by giants and pygmies, and this week, she tended to think of everything in those terms. Last month, it had been fairies, who captured her imagination when she read a story about Titania, the Summer Queen, and Mab, the Winter Queen. Before that, it had been pirates, and then cowboys; once it had been Roman soldiers. Katie's interests changed rapidly. Most of the adults around her could not keep track; one of the things Katie most liked about Papa was that he did. He always asked her about what she read, and discussed it with her as if she were an adult. It made her feel important.

The inside of the feed store was dim and cool, and smelled of corn and new life. The door was in the corner of the building; straight ahead of the entrance was the warehouse, dim and cavernous. To their left, however, was a shabby office area; Katie could see two desks behind the counter, where clerks copied neat rows of figures into ledgers.

"May I help you?" one of the clerks asked. He had a high, thin voice that reminded Katie of the wind blowing through the reeds at the edge of the pond behind their house.

"You may," Mama said, her tone as cold as Katie had ever heard it. "I need to speak to Mr Myers, please."

"Do you have an appointment?" the clerk asked. Katie stared at him in amazement; even she could see that this was not the kind of business establishment where one made appointments.

"I do not," Mama said. Katie half-expected to see icicles hanging from the brim of Mama's hat when she looked up, but it was just Mama, looking as she always did. "Please ask him if he will see Mrs Butler. I will wait."

Mama turned half away from the clerks, as if to emphasize how little interested she was in conversing with them. "When we finish here, we will go to the general store," Mama said. "I want to buy some material for Dilcey to make new shirts for the boys. They have already outgrown the ones we made them to start school in, and it isn't even November yet!"

You could tell by Mama's tone that she was just fussing a little. She didn't really mind that the boys had outgrown their clothes.

"Can I have some candy?" Katie asked. The chance to choose a selection of penny candy was one of the major joys of coming to town with Mama or Papa. There were so many kinds, all of them lovely!

"Perhaps," Mama said. Katie was content with that; it was the 'probably you can' kind of perhaps.

"We can take some home to the boys, too," Katie said. "They like candy."

"Yes, but you can't give them too much," Mama said seriously. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie saw the door to the inner office open, and she knew Mama did as well. But she kept talking just as if she hadn't. "Because if you do, it will give them a tummy ache, and they won't thank you for it."

Katie didn't understand why Mama was being rude and keeping the man waiting, but she knew it was on purpose, so she decided to play along. "I have to take care of them, I know," she said, talking a little louder so the man couldn't interrupt. "Because I'm the big sister, and they are still pretty little."

Mama gave her an approving smile, the kind of smile that made Katie feel warm all the way down to her toes. "That's my good girl," she said, and Katie beamed back at her.

Then Mama turned back to the dour face of the man waiting at the counter, and the change in her attitude could not have been more clear. "Mr Myers," Mama said. "I wish to place an order for seed for the spring planting. Since prices remain unchanged in the regional market, I assume you can give us the same rates as last year."

The man took the piece of paper that Mama gave him. "Hmm, yes. Yes, this is a very nice order... very nice indeed." The man looked at Mama over the top of his glasses. "Your husband must have some new land under cultivation," he said.

Katie thought his tone was wrong when he said that, almost as if he were mocking Mama in some mean way.

"We do, yes," Mama said. "Which is why this will be the last seed we will need to order from you."

"The – the last seed? I'm not sure I understand, Ma'am."

"I didn't really expect that you would," Mama said. "Now that we have enough land under cultivation to justify it, my son Wade, and my nephew Beau have decided to open a farmer's cooperative here in Clayton County. They're going to build their own warehouse. We will order our seed and equipment directly from the manufacturers in future, leaving us no reason to patronize your establishment." Mama glanced around as she spoke, giving the warehouse the exact look she gave Katie's room when she and Lanie hadn't picked it up and then had a pillow fight on top of the mess.

"B-but you can't do that!" the man said. He was almost in tears, but Katie could have told him it would be no use. Crying _never _changed Mama's mind.

"Watch me." Mama said.

"But that will put me out of business," the little man said, and now his voice was almost a whine, high-pitched and unpleasant. Katie winced, and shook her head. Whining worked even less well than crying. Often, it meant more punishment.

"That's the point," Mama said, her voice cold and precise. "Several years ago, you made a windfall profit from cheating the farmers in this county, charging them two or three hundred percent of your cost for seed and equipment, and then having the nerve to laugh at them behind their backs for being forced to pay it. The only thing I can say, Mr Myers, is that I hope you saved some of that profit. You're going to need it. Good day, sir. Come, Katie; let us go to the store now."

Turning to leave obediently with Mama, Katie saw a look of hatred on Mr Myers face. She didn't understand exactly what had happened, but that look scared her. If Mr Myers ever got the chance to hurt Mama, Katie thought he would probably take it.

* * *

The General Store was just across the narrow cobbled road that was the town's main street. Katie picked her way across carefully, stepping around the refuse that littered the uneven cobblestones. She hated to get her shoes dirty and smelly. She climbed the steps behind Mama, who had also avoided the debris, only she seemed to do it effortlessly, even gracefully. Katie hoped that she could be like that someday.

Then they were entering the general store. Katie's breath caught in excitement; she loved this place, absolutely adored it! Everything could be bought here. There was food, of course, fresh vegetables and eggs, cheeses, both local and foreign, and pickles, sold from a barrel. The local ladies sold some of their canned goods here, too, everything from strawberry jam to sauerkraut could be obtained. Fresh-baked bread and pies were also offered, their wonderful scents lending a pleasant spiciness to the air.

One could also buy dry goods here, and it was in this direction that Mama turned. She had a small list of things that she needed – the sewing things that Dilcey had told her to get – and she pulled it out of her reticule as she approached the area where domestic goods could be chosen. Katie cast a longing look at the candy counter, with its endless rows of glass jars and their marvellous contents, but she said nothing, only waited patiently. Lanie never learned this art; she tried, but long before Mama was ready to leave, she would begin fidgeting, and pestering her about getting candy, with the usual result that Lanie ended up being punished with no candy at all. Mama really hated to be interrupted, so Katie had developed the knack of standing back and watching while Mama conducted her business.

Sometimes, it was really boring stuff, like leather for making tack, or wood, for some of the endless things that seemed to need built or repaired around the farm. Nails and shingles, hammers and saws also went in the boring category, but Mama also bought some interesting things. Material for different types of clothing, needles and thread, yarn and crochet hooks.

If Mama was in a really good mood, she would explain her choices to Katie, telling her how to select the correct material for the intended use. Rough denim for work clothes, light cotton for summer shirts, heavy wool for winter. They discussed the best way to dye fabrics, and how to select material for linens that would not turn rough and scratchy after laundering. Needles were important, too, and Katie learned how to slide a needle through the fabric, listening and feeling the smoothness; any needle that pulled or caught at the fabric was discarded, as it would cause the seams it sewed to be ragged and uneven. Katie took in all these details and more, knowing that she would need them when she had a house and a family of her own someday.

Today, though, Mama hurried through her purchases. Halfway through, she paused and handed Katie a coin. Katie looked at it, and her eyes widened. A dime? A whole dime?

"Go and choose bags of candy for your brothers, and one for you and Lanie, as well," Mama told her, smiling. "And if you're done before I finish, you can look at the books. If you find one you like, perhaps we will buy it."

Katie's eyes rounded with pure joy. Candy was good, but a new book was wonderful! Especially from Mama, who all-too-often forgot how much books meant to her youngest daughter. "Thank you, Mama!" she exclaimed happily.

Chosing candy for the boys was easy; they were not picky, except that Gene hated licorice. Katie bought butterscotches and peppermints, lemon drops and root beer fizzies, and knew that they would be happy. Selecting treats for Lanie took more time; Lanie was a connoisseur of candy, and wouldn't hesitate to criticize sharply if Katie came home with the wrong kinds.

Finally, she had four bags of candies. Remembering to smile and thank Mrs Ivey, who had waited patiently while she dithered, Katie gathered up her purchases and turned towards the shelf where the books were on display. She had not noticed the other customer waiting; if she had, she would have been more careful, for behind her stood Rab Campbell, the bully who had pushed Gene on the playground.

He smirked at her, and grabbed one of the bags of candy out of her hand. "Hey, that's mine!" Katie protested.

"Not anymore," he said, laughing at her.

"Give it back, Rab! It's for my little brother!"

"So it belonged to the little squirt? All the better!" He opened the bag and took out a licorice whip. "He's nothing but a pain in the neck, anyway, always knowing the answers to all the question. Do him good to go without candy for once."

Glancing around, Katie saw Mrs Ivey; the clerk had half turned away from them, and had not yet noticed that anything was amiss. Katie opened her mouth to call out, only to feel Rab grab her and put his hand over her mouth. "Uh-uhh," he hissed in her ear. "You say anything to the grownups and I'll hurt you, Katie, I really will."

Katie had tried to do what Mama had said. She would have called for an adult, if this awful boy hadn't put his hand over her mouth. She hadn't been the first one to grab, but now that it was started, she intended to get her licks in. Carefully setting the bags of candy down on the counter beside her, she lifted her foot(and oh, she was glad she was wearing boots today) and brought it down hard on his instep. He gasped, and released her; Katie punched him in the nose, and followed that with a hard clout to the ear. "Ow!" he exclaimed. When he raised his hand to rub the offended part of his anatomy, Katie jabbed an elbow into his ribs. He hunched over, blood dripping from his nose onto the clean floor. He lifted a hand to slap her, and Katie scuttled backwards quickly.

"Mrs Ivey!" she called, hoping to attract the attention of the kindly store clerk, knowing that Rab would follow through on his promise if he managed to corner her. The other woman turned quickly, startled by her tone, just in time to see Rab smack Katie across the face hard enough to knock her down.

"Why, Rab Campbell! Whatever are you thinking, hitting a girl! You are in so much trouble!" Mrs Ivey gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Get away from her, now."

The older woman started around the counter. Rab turned and glared at her, and she stopped suddenly. Looking at the older woman from her position on the ground, Katie thought wildly, S_he sees it, too. She sees how dangerous he is._ Then he turned back to her, his eyes hot and enraged; they reminded Katie of the boar Wade and Beau housed behind the barn, the one that the little boys wouldn't go near. Katie concentrated her energy on keeping out of his reach. Surely, if she could just avoid him a minute longer, Mama would be here. She would make him stop.

When he couldn't reach her from behind the shelf of clothing where she took shelter, he began to kick at her. He wore boots, too, heavier than hers, and each kick that landed sent a bolt of pain through her. Her leg, then her arm. Katie screamed for Mama then, and never had she been so grateful to hear her mother speaking in her angry voice.

"Stop it this instant!" Mama said. She was close, but not close enough to stop him from stomping at Katie one last time. He caught her smallest finger under his boot, and Katie screamed again as she felt it snap.

The rest of the events seemed to happen in a blur. Mama grabbed him by the ear, and when he grabbed her arm to make her stop, she twisted until he squealed. Then another man was there, one with a star on his shirt, and for a moment Katie felt relief; the sheriff was supposed to be a good guy. Her relief was short-lived. It turned out that Sheriff Campbell was Rab's uncle, and he was paying attention to Rab's story.

Her finger hurt immensely, and Katie didn't like the way it was swelling and turning purple. Now that no one was kicking her, she climbed to her feet slowly, protecting the hand. Then she said to her mother, "Mama, it didn't happen the way he said. I didn't hit him first. He stole one bag of candy, and I told him to give it back. He laughed at me, so I was going to tell Mrs Ivey. I tried to call out to her, but he put his hand over my mouth and told me he would hurt me if I did. So I put the candy down, and stomped his foot, hard. Then I hit him in the nose, and the ear. That's when he went to hit me. I called Mrs Ivey, and she saw him knock me down." Katie put a hand to her face, which felt hot and tender to her touch. "Then he kept kicking me until you came, Mama, and you know the rest."

"Yes, I do," Mama said. "We need to see Young Doctor Joe about that finger, Katie; we'll go there as soon as we finish here, all right?"

"Make him give the candy back,"Katie said.

Mama nodded grimly. "You bet he will," she assured Katie.

"It's her word against his," the sheriff insisted. "Everyone knows what little hellions your daughters are, Mrs Butler. It's the talk of the town, how your youngsters have no better manners than the white trash folk that live down by the river -"

Mama had been gazing worriedly at Katie's hand. Katie saw her pause, then raise her face to look at the sheriff; she wondered if the man realized how much trouble he was in now. Mama had that look on her face, the one that meant, 'Run! Hide!' to Katie and Lanie. Only Papa or sometimes Wade could talk to Mama when she was in that kind of temper.

"_What_ did you say to me?" she asked. "What did you say, you overgrown baboon of a man? You dare to criticize my daughter when your nephew is standing there, still holding the bag of candy he stole from her?"

"That hasn't been proven -"

"Mrs Ivey, how many bags of candy did you sell my daughter?" Mama asked.

"Four, Mrs Butler."

"Katie, honey -"

Katie pointed with her good hand to the counter where she had put the candy down. Mama looked at them.

"I realize it will stretch your intelligence to its limit, Sheriff, so I'll help you. There are one, two, three bags of candy sitting on the counter. Mrs Ivey, did you sell a bag of candy to the sheriff's nephew?"

"No, Mrs Butler."

"Then I think that you will see that the evidence is pretty clear. One bag of candy is missing from my daughter's purchases; your nephew is holding a bag of candy that he never bought. At the very least, I expect an apology and the return of my daughter's property." Scarlett reached out and plucked the bag of candy from Rab's hand. "I am waiting," she said, tapping her foot.

"I'll be damned if I will," the sheriff said.

Mama looked at him. "So be it," she said calmly. "I'll be speaking to the DA about pressing charges against your nephew, and with my attorney about filing a lawsuit -"

"A lawsuit? Over a bag of candy?" The sheriff snorted with derision.

Mama shook her head. "My daughter has sustained injuries bad enough to need a doctor. Your nephew will pay for that, one way or another."

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill!" the sheriff said. "The kid will be fine. Won't you, girly?" He reached out and gave her shoulder a shake. Katie never really knew if he intended to hurt her, but that shoulder was connected to her injured finger, and the unexpected movement sent a lightning-bolt up her arm. Already dizzy and sick from the fight and the pain, she did the only thing that seemed possible. Leaning forward, she threw up all over the sheriff's boots.

* * *

**Seems like a good place to leave matters.  
**

**Scarlett never did get to have her conversation with Katie, and I think the effects of the little 'how to solve problems without resorting to violence' spiel would probably be limited right now. Poor Katie did try, and all it got her was a broken finger, and insults from the sheriff.**

**There is a point to all this. Next chapter, Wade and Sally, and Ella, with some problems of her own... Hopefully tomorrow!**


	5. Family Discussion

**Aftermath**

* * *

Katie leaned on her mother's shoulder, dozing fitfully. The medicine Young Doctor Joe had given her made her sleepy, but not in a good way. Her head felt dizzy, and there were too many thoughts in it, somehow. She couldn't make them connect properly, and she quickly decided that she hated feeling that way. Unless Mama insisted, she wasn't going to take anymore of the stuff. It did help the pain, though. Katie was aware that her hand hurt, but it seemed faint and far away, along with everything else. Only when the buggy went over particularly deep holes in the road did she feel the pain; once, she cried out, but Mama was there, soothing her gently.

When the buggy turned into the drive and stopped in front of the house, it was almost completely dark. Katie sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light, wondering how it got so late. She and Mama had left for town just after lunch; they should have been back well before supper time... Katie couldn't think why they weren't, and she couldn't find the words to ask Mama.

"What took you so long?" Papa asked, coming to the buggy as soon as it stopped. "We thought something had happened – I was just about ready to come looking for you."

"Something did happen," Mama said, her voice curt. "Can you help Katie down? I don't believe she's going to be able to walk by herself."

"What's wrong with her? Is she ill?"

That was Sally Jo's voice, coming from behind Papa. Katie remembered that her eldest brother and his family were coming for supper, which was a regular event; Will loved to play with Gene and Gerry, and if it hadn't been for his vividly red hair and green eyes, he might have been mistaken for their brother.

"No. She has a broken finger; Young Doctor Joe treated it, and gave her a dose of laudanum to help get her through the night. He says the pain should be better by tomorrow when the swelling's down."

"What happened to her finger?" Rhett asked quietly. "No, never mind; you can tell me after we get Katie situated. Come on, Katie. Can you walk if I help you or do you want me to carry you?"

"I can walk. I just need something to hold onto so I don't fall."

He helped her down from the buggy, his hands strong but gentle. He carefully avoided touching her injured hand, but her finger throbbed, anyway, and she frowned. "Should I go to bed now Mama?" she asked querulously. Her mother gave her a quick, assessing look.

"Do you think you could sit out on the porch for a while?" Mama asked gently. "I want Papa to know what happened, and it would be best if you told your part of the story. I'm mad enough to chew iron and spit out nails right now, so I need you to make sure I don't miss anything."

Katie thought about it. She really didn't feel good, but if Mama needed her help... "Okay," she said. "If Papa promises not to get mad at me tonight. Tomorrow he can, but tonight I'm just too sick."

"I promise, Katie. If there's anything that needs further discussion, we'll do it tomorrow. Tonight I just need to know what happened."

The family moved in a bunch towards the back porch. Papa held Katie's arm, which was good; she leaned her head against his shoulder and let him guide her. When they were halfway to the house, Katie heard her sister whisper, "Katie! What did you _do_, to make Mama so mad?"

Katie was glad to hear Papa tell Lanie to wait a few minutes, and she could hear the story with everyone else. It was going to be hard enough to make her thick tongue tell the story once, much less twice, and Lanie would interrupt with a gazillion questions.

After everyone took seats on the porch, Scarlett looked around. "Where are the boys?" she asked.

"Upstairs. Kezia is giving them a bath and putting them to bed," Sally Jo said. "Like Uncle Rhett said, we were beginning to worry about you and Katie, that there had been an accident or something."

"No accident," Scarlett said, and her furious tone caused Rhett and Wade to exchange glances. "Katie, can you tell Papa and Wade what happened in the store? Starting with when you went to get candy?"

"Ok," Katie said. Her voice sounded slow, and a little slurred, but it was understandable. "Mama gave me money – a whole dime! - to buy candy for everyone. So I went to the counter, and Mrs Ivey came and waited on me. I picked out candy for all of us, and I didn't see Rab Campbell come up behind me. He's the boy who pushed Gene down on the playground last week." She added this last part for Wade, who looked a little confused.

"Okay, I get it," he said. "So what happened then?"

"He took one of the bags of candy right out of my hand," she said. "It was Gerry's, 'cause it had licorice whips in it. I told him to give it back, and he laughed at me. I tried to call Mrs Ivey – I really did try, Papa – but he put his hand over my mouth. I stomped his foot then, and he let go. I hit him on the nose, and the ear, then I called Mrs Ivey. She turned, and saw him hit me hard enough to knock me down. She told him to stop, but he didn't. When I fell, I got between two of the shelves, where he couldn't get to me, and I just hung on, not letting him pull me out. When he saw he couldn't, he started kicking me. It hurt – he kicked hard – and I screamed for Mama. Just as she got there, he stomped on my finger and broke it." She lifted her hand, thickly encased in a white gauze bandage, so that they all could see it.

"Is that all?" Rhett asked, puzzled about why the events recounted so far would have made Scarlett so angry. The boy had behaved badly, true, and Katie had been hurt, but Scarlett usually didn't let the children's troubles work her into the fury she was in now.

"No, it is _not_," Scarlett said, taking over the narrative. "When I came over and saw that awful boy stomping at Katie as if she were an insect he wanted to crush, I grabbed him by the ear and when he tried to pull away, I twisted. The shoe was on the other foot then – he squealed like a little girl. Much worse than Katie did." Scarlett gave her daughter a fierce smile. "That's when his uncle came over, and demanded to know what was going on, and why I was hurting his nephew. I told him that his nephew had been stealing candy and picking fights with little girls, and demanded that he punish him."

Scarlett paused and took a deep breath. "So far, it sounds very unpleasant, but you don't usually let the children and their squabbles affect you so strongly. What else happened?" Rhett asked, taking her hand gently. He always thought she looked her best when she was angry – her eyes flashing, her color high – which was one reason why he had teased her so much when she was younger.

"Then the sheriff, Rab's uncle, said that everyone knew that I was raising my daughters to be hellions, and that they had no more manners than the white trash that live in the shanties down by the river. He denied that his nephew had stolen any candy – and Rhett, the boy was standing right there, eating it and grinning at me like the village idiot! Even when I got Mrs Ivey to back me up, proving that Katie had bought four bags of candy, rather than three, and that Rab hadn't bought any, he refused to back down or apologize."

Rhett looked at Wade, and Scarlett saw that odd masculine camaraderie at work between them. "I'll have to have a talk with him," Rhett said. He turned back to Scarlett, smiling suavely at her, and something about his calm attitude niggled at her memory. "Don't worry about it, Scarlett; you'll have your apology, or I'll make sure he doesn't have a job. When I put it to him that bluntly – and you can be certain that I'll be blunt – I'm sure he'll come around. If not, I'll have to follow through on my threat. No great loss, since I wasn't particularly fond of him anyway. He was just better than the man he replaced – the one who was in league with Myers, and tried to stop us from taking delivery of the seed we ordered from Atlanta."

Scarlett looked at him doubtfully. "Can you put him out of a job, Rhett? I thought Sheriffs get elected? Don't the voters have to have a recall, or something?"

Rhett smiled. They had discussed all of this openly in front of Scarlett while she was pregnant with the twins, but his belief that she paid only the slightest attention now proved true.

"At one time, that would have been true," he agreed. "But we had so much trouble with the last Sheriff that we put another, easier method of getting rid of a bad one into the rules. If a three-fifths majority of the county commissioners (there are five of us, by the way) vote to impeach him, it's done. Alex and I are two, and I'm sure we can persuade the others. He's as good as gone if I say so, my dear." He kissed her cheek lightly.

"You're just going to talk to him? Promise me, Rhett?" Scarlett put a hand on his arm, her face worried. "Because it's not worth going after him if it's going to mean trouble with the law. I don't want you to get killed, trying to avenge an insult to me, like Frank did. we can find another way."

Rhett put his arm around her. "Don't worry," he told her. "Frank and his friends were starting off from a much weaker position than I am. They had to hide what they were doing from the law, and they weren't trying to find a peaceful solution. I'm going to go and talk to the sheriff with completely peaceful intentions. If he's smart, he'll apologize, and that will be that, although I think I can safely predict that this is his last term as sheriff. If he doesn't, then I'll use my influence to have him removed from office. After that, I can deal with him as a private citizen." He smiled at her with great charm. "I have no intention of getting myself arrested or killed – or of allowing him to goad me into losing my temper."

"Well, that's all right, then," she said, relaxing into his embrace. "Just be careful, honey. He's such an unpleasant man."

Katie leaned her head back against the wicker chair she sat in. "That's three unpleasant people today," she remarked.

"Who are the others?" her papa asked.

"Well, first there was Mr Myers at the feed store," Katie said. "I think Mama might as well have hit him, 'cause he hates her, anyway. And then there was Rab. He's just plain mean, and I think he might even be dangerous, Papa. He's young, but he would have hurt me worse, if he could have. And then the sheriff. He said some mean things, but it could be he was only worried about Rab. You should be careful, though, Papa. Mama's right; things could get bad."

Mama laughed. "I see I'm raising a smart girl," she said.

" I don't feel very smart right now," Katie answered, smiling a little. "That medicine that Young Doctor Joe gave me has made me very woozy. Can I go to bed now, Mama?"

"I'll help her," Lanie volunteered.

"Time for you to get to bed, too." Mama told Lanie. "Good night to both of you!"

"Goodnight, Mama and Papa, Wade and Sally Jo." The girls gave their parents hug and kisses, then Wade and Sally.

* * *

"Mama?" Wade asked.

Scarlett looked up and smiled at her oldest son.

He had become such a good man, a loving husband to Sally Jo, and as good a father for Will as any child could wish for. He did all kinds of active things with not only Will, but her twins as well, teaching them the basics of hunting and farming, showing endless patience with their 'help' and their questions. Rhett tried, but he had never been a country gentleman; Scarlett knew that, but for her and the children, he would be living in a city somewhere, just as he did in their years apart. That's why she didn't object to their annual trips to London to see Ella. It was a compromise, of sorts.

"Yes, Wade?" she answered. He was smiling broadly, and she wondered what had gotten into him.

"I know you had a rotten evening, but we have some good news for you. Maybe that will brighten it up?"

"All right dear. I'd love to hear anything that can make me smile, right now." She sat back and looked expectantly at him. He was sitting on the swing beside Sally Jo, holding her hand.

"How would you feel about being a grandmother again?"

Scarlett smiled broadly at them. "Well, fiddle-dee-dee! That's wonderful, and the only thing I have to say is it's about time!" Rising lightly to her feet, Scarlett went to give her son and daughter-in-law a hug of congratulations.

* * *

**I'm so happy for Wade and Sally. I can just picture Wade with his own little girl.  
**

**I think one way or another, the sheriff is going to rue the day he decided to insult Scarlett.**

**I know this first part is a little slow. I'm trying to put all the elements into place, so that they can be woven together.**

**Next chapter, Ella's in London, with problems of her own...**

**Review, if you'd like to. I always love hearing from you!**


	6. Justin Gets Stung

Ella Lorena Markham, nee Kennedy, had the classically beautiful face that her mother, Scarlett, did not. As the daughter of a woman cursed with a tempestuous charm that transcended mere appearance, she received little attention for her looks when she was young and impressionable, and so had grown up without the vanity that corrupted so many beautiful women. She rarely if ever fussed about her appearance; mirrors, to her, were necessary only to keep up neatness.

Only recently had it occurred to Justin to wonder if Ella's calm veneer hid more feelings than he had imagined.

His discontent began, as trouble in his household often did, with his family. His mother sent a note to his club, asking him to call at the house at his earliest convenience. He did so, and discovered that having your mother lecture you was no more pleasant at thirty than it had been at thirteen.

"You must control your wife better, Justin!" his mother told him, her face flushed with anger.

"Ella? What has she done?" Justin asked in surprise. Ella's calm demeanor, so suitable to all occasions, was the source of great pride to him.

"She refuses to escort Diantha to any more evening parties. She says that Diantha is telling scandalous lies about her, and she won't be seen in public accompanying someone who speaks so disrespectfully of her." His mother gave a melodramatic moan, and collapsed theatrically onto a convenient settee. "You know that my health is not good, Justin. I cannot – simply cannot – be attending a girl at balls and evening parties. My nerves simply won't stand the strain.'"

Justin, who knew perfectly well that his mother was as healthy as a horse, remained unmoved by this plea.

"What have you been saying?" Justin asked, frowning as he turned to his sister.

"Nothing that's not perfectly true. She's been spending a great deal of time with Viscount Ellerby. They've even been alone in his study. She says they are talking about literature, but everyone knows that's just an excuse." Diantha snickered, and Justin studied her face, trying to learn how much truth was in her words. The implication, that Ella had taken a lover, resonated unpleasantly with him; although they were no longer in the first flush of young love (such a silly emotion, really), he liked to believe that Ella had too much affection for him to be unfaithful.

"You need to remind her of her family duties," his mother whined.

"And besides, dear brother, if she's not escorting me, she might demand that you begin spending _your _evenings with her again," Diantha said, smirking. "And that wouldn't suit you at all, would it?"

Justin glared at his sister, his anger palpable. "Repeating gossip will get you in a great deal of trouble," he said between his teeth. "If I were you, dear sister, I would remember that you live here on my charity, which can be taken away whenever I see fit. In fact, Mother, I believe it would be in Diantha's best interests to remain at home this week so that she can think about the matter. You can tell her friends that she has a cold, and the doctor recommends that she stay within for a few days."

Diantha's pig-like eyes narrowed in anger, but she held her temper. "And after that?" she asked, her voice strained.

"After that, I expect that Ella will once again be available to escort you," Justin said.

Diantha smiled. Justin might not know it, but she did; a major quarrel loomed over his marriage. In spite of her financial dependence on Justin, and therefore on Justin's wife, her hatred of Ella was stronger than her fear of the consequences of her malice.

Justin dismissed the carriage, preferring to walk the several blocks to the house. It would give him time to think, and he felt that he needed that now. He spent so little time alone, without the crowd of friends that usually surrounded him.

Diantha's barbed comments bothered him more than he wanted to admit. In the past few months, he had occasionally thought that his wife seemed very distant, almost cold, but he put it down to a bad mood and dismissed it. He had better things to do than worry about minor irritations, and he and Ella had not spent a lot of time together recently. He had to admit that Diantha had a point, unpleasant as it was to admit it; his own activities would be considerably curtailed if it became necessary for him to spend his evenings escorting Ella to balls and the theater. When they were courting, Ella's presence had been enough to make such events interesting, but now that they were an old married couple, he found them tedious in the extreme.

Really, it was a good deal too bad of Ella to make such a fuss. She knew what Diantha was like. Surely she could be persuaded to overlook his sister's sharp tongue again, just as she always had. He would ask her to do it as a special favor for him; that should work.

Pleased with this solution, Justin picked up his pace. If he hurried, perhaps he could speak to her before she left for her afternoon round of calls.

* * *

"No."

The interview had begun well. Justin found Ella at home, going through her account books in the small room she had arranged as an office. He believed she did the household accounts there; in the early days of their marriage, when he had sought her out, he had often found the housekeeper or the butler there with her. Today, he found her alone, working on an accounting ledger; when he asked if he could speak to her, she had acquiesced without demur.

He put on his best smile, the one she had once told him was the first thing that had attracted her to him, and put his request to her in terms he hoped she could not refuse.

"I know Diantha is – irritating," he said winningly. "And certainly, it must be a dead bore to have to take her to balls, and dinner parties, and the theater. I know Mama really appreciates it, and I do, too. If you could just see your way to continue to escort her until the end of the season, I – I'll take you to the cottage for Christmas! We haven't been there in years; it will be just like old times."

Justin thought that last suggestion particularly inspired. Ella loved the cottage, the six bedroom country house was far more what she was used to than their London mansion, or his family's magnificent estate in Lancashire. He gave it to her as a wedding present, and in the first two years of their marriage, they spent many happy hours there. After the children came, however, the cottage began to seem cramped and dingy, and his visits to it become increasingly rare. He had not been there with her in – a faint frown creased his forehead as he calculated. Certainly, not since Anthony's birth, and the boy was two on his last birthday.

He expected her to snap at the opportunity. Ella had always had the rather vulgar American idea that husband and wife should do things together; a family Christmas should be just her cup of tea. So convinced was he of this that it took a moment to comprehend her response, a quiet but definite refusal.

"No? But – but-" He stared at her helplessly, unable to understand, not the refusal so much, as the cool brevity of it.

"I am planning to go to the cottage for Christmas, as the children and I do every year," she said calmly. "I have invited company to share the occasion with me, however, so there will be no room for you. I'm sure you've made arrangements with your friends, however, so it should not inconvenience you too much."

"But it's _my_ house," he said, shocked. Ella never spoke to him like this.

"You gave it to me as a wedding present, I believe," she replied. "Which makes it _my_ house, if I understand the law correctly."

Justin stared at her. "You are refusing to allow me in the house?" he asked, finding it difficult to believe.

Ella sighed. "I suppose, if you really insist upon it, the children and I can go elsewhere," she replied. "It's inconvenient, however, since my guests have already been invited, and they'll have to change travel plans. Really, Justin, it's most tedious of you."

Her voice was mild. To Justin, the lack of anger made the impact of her words greater, not less. "You mean – you don't _want _to spend Christmas with me?"

Ella looked up at him as he stood in front of the elegant cherry wood table she used as a desk.

"Yes, Justin. That's exactly what I mean."

"But, you're my wife! You love me!" he protested.

"No, I don't believe I do," she said. "And I will not continue to put up with Diantha either, not for you, or anyone else. She is an embarrassment, with the manner, as well as the appearance, of a pig."

Justin blinked at her. "What did she do?" he asked, feeling numb. She didn't love him? When had that happened?

"She makes no secret of the fact that she believes I am having an affair with Viscount Ellerby, because he seeks my company and discusses books with me," Ella said. "I had looked forward to last night's dinner party, because it was at the house of Sir Montague Jones-Barton, who has a well-known library. After dinner, while the younger people gathered to converse in the sitting room, Sir Jones-Barton was good enough to offer Viscount Ellerby and myself a tour. We had been in the library for about twenty minutes; Sir Jones-Montague had just opened a locked case where he keeps his first edition folios, when the door banged open and Diantha practically leaped into the room with no grace or poise whatsoever, followed by a group of her sycophants. I'm not sure whether she didn't know our host was there or she expected to find us in some disgraceful menage', but she looked hugely disappointed to find that I was sitting on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea, while the two gentlemen stood across the room, examining the original handwritten sonnets of Shakespeare. She didn't even have the grace to apologize, just muttered something about 'next time,' and stomped out."

"Diantha has always been – difficult," Justin said, and Ella shook her head.

"Diantha is a spoiled brat who gets away with much more than she should because your mama is too lazy to discipline her. Well, as far as I'm concerned, she created this problem, she can suffer with it. I'm finished."

She returned to her ledger, making meticulous entries, seeming to dismiss him from her mind even while he remained in the room. Several minutes passed before he spoke again. Justin watched her for a moment; for the first time in many months, he noticed how beautiful she was in her serenity. During the days when he courted her, this – the ability to create around her a buffer of pure tranquility – was the quality he admired most about her, even more than her beauty. He had longed to be on the inside of that circle, to let it soothe away his cares, and after their marriage, he thought he had achieved that.

"Ella?" he asked, after a long moment.

"Yes, Justin?" she replied, her voice quite calm.

"Can you tell me how it happened? How you stopped loving me? You did once, I think."

"I did," she answered. Setting her pen in the inkwell, she blotted the page carefully and closed the ledger. Folding her hands in front of her on the desk, she said, "Do you wish to have this discussion here, or should we go into the sitting room?"

He looked around. Her office was tiny, and the only chairs besides her comfortable desk-chair were thin, spindly things that looked like they might break if he sat on them. "The sitting room, please," he said. Wordlessly, she rose to her feet, and he followed as she left the room.

"What exactly is it that you wish to know, Justin?" she asked, once she had seated herself in a wingback chair where he could not sit next to her.

"I want to know when and how it happened," he answered, keeping his voice calm and reasonable.

"Are you sure that you really do?" she asked. "It's not as if it will change anything."

"I want to understand," he said. She shrugged.

"I suppose the first real problem began when Sophia was born," she said. "Short of shouting and throwing things, you couldn't have made your displeasure at her sex more clear. You wanted a son; you got a daughter, and you took no interest in her at all. You didn't hold her, or admire her, or suggest names for her, and two hours after her birth, you left to spend three weeks with your friends at their country estate. You barely made it home for the christening, and when you did, you smelled like a brewery."

"Yes, but I made up for it by spending the summer with you at Grassmere," he said, eager to redeem himself.

"We spent the summer at Grassmere, true," she said flatly. "During the entire season, however, you spent most of your days out riding with your friends, which I could not do because I had just given birth, and your evenings drinking with the same friends at the tavern. I was lucky if I saw you for an hour a day."

"I suppose that's true," he said, shamefaced.

"And those friends are the same ones who encouraged your financial problems the next year," she said. "You weren't exactly honest with me about that, Justin; you told me that there had been 'business reversals,' when what you really meant was that you gambled it away at cards and the racetrack."

"Yes, but I sold my horses to pay the debts," he said.

"You had me sell some of my jewelry and give you the money, too," she said sternly. "When you had recouped your losses – and once you set your mind to it, you did, I grant you that – you filled the stable with expensive horses again. But where is my jewelry, Justin?"

He looked away. "I – too much time had gone by. I couldn't get it back," he mumbled.

"Did you try, Justin? Did you ever go to the jeweler and ask him?"

He shook his head silently.

She nodded. "The last three years have seen a steady decline in the amount and kind of attention you have paid to me, and more importantly, to the children," she said. "Before they were born, you said that you wanted to be a real father to them, like yours never was to you or your siblings," she said. "Instead, you have recreated exactly the kind of family you grew up in."

He looked at her, stunned to realize that she was right. He had made his family as much of a stifling cocoon of propriety as his father ever had. "I didn't even see that I was doing it," he said.

"I suppose I might have forgiven all the rest," she said, "but the other women, no. I told you from the beginning that I would not tolerate infidelity, that it would mean the end of our relationship. But you have been unfaithful to me with the actresses you've kept as your mistress in the little house on Demeter Lane. The most recent one, I think, is Anette Bonicelli, but there have been several others, dating back to when you first bought the house, when I was pregnant with Anthony."

"How do you know about that?" he asked, wide-eyed.

She smiled faintly. "My mother taught me how to keep the accounts," she said. "When all your money passes through one set of bank statements, Justin, you have almost no ability to keep secrets from the person who does your books."

She rose to her feet. Justin felt that she wanted to put an end to the interview, not because it was painful, but because it was tiresome. "Is that everything?" she asked.

"I – I do have one more question," he said. "Is this the very end for us? Do you intend to leave me?"

"Certainly not," she said. "That would ruin the children's future. No, we'll go on, just as we have, I suppose. You'll have your mistresses, and we'll occupy separate bedrooms, and spend as little time as we decently can in each others company. In a few years, we will have forgotten that we ever hoped for anything better, or believed our marriage to be based on emotion. And our lives together will be no worse than most, and better than many." She turned to leave.

"Is there no hope for anything better?"

Ella studied him with cool, calculating eyes. "If you mean, am I still capable of love, the answer is yes, I am. But I doubt very much if you're the man to bring it out. I'm no longer the girl who was so easily won by your charm and good looks, Justin; I am a woman, with a woman's knowledge of the world. Winning my affections now would be much harder. It would be work, and do you know, Justin, I've never seen you work at anything for more than a day or two. I doubt you're capable of it."

He took hold of her arm.

"Would you be willing to let me try?" he asked.

"Are you sure you want to? Before today, my thought was that your life was pretty much everything you wanted it to be."

"I'm sure," he said.

She shrugged. "Think about it," she advised him. "I believe I'm going to go home and visit my mother for a month or so. We can talk about it when I get back."

* * *

**It seems that Justin, in common with many men, only sees what he has when he has lost it. Should Ella let him try to win her back? Can it even be done? It will be interesting to see. And Ella's going to go to visit Scarlett where she is certain to get mixed up in their troubles.  
**

**Review, if you feel like it. I did a lot of writing today (two chapters), so some encouragement would be welcome!**


	7. Ella Comes Home

**Ella Comes Home**

* * *

Ella shifted Anthony's weight to her other hip, trying to pretend that her sleeping son wasn't a heavy load, particularly when she herself felt on the edge of collapsing due to exhaustion. This trip had been a difficult one. Unlike most summer sea voyages, the weather had been atrocious; one of the sailors told her that they were riding the tail of a tropical storm, perhaps even a hurricane. Ella didn't know whether to believe him or not, but she was glad that the trip was over. The rough seas had caused even her usually robust children to fall victim to sea-sickness. Anthony had been too ill to keep anything down, and even the girls, normally the heartiest of eaters, had only picked at their food.

The children had slept on the train. Ella thought that a blessing, but it didn't relieve her of her responsibilities. She couldn't sleep; she had to stay awake to make sure that they got off at the stop for Jonesboro. Only when they stepped down on the platform to find no one waiting did she realize that she had neglected to send a telegram from the station in Savannah. It was nine o'clock at night, she was exhausted, and no one was coming to get her.

She looked around the train platform, unlit except for the dim light of the half-moon that hung low and the sky. The ticket-sellers booth stood at the far end of the wooden platform, dark and shuttered, and the open platform offered no shelter at all. Ella looked around, feeling totally, infuriatingly helpless. "Well, damn and blast!" she said, much more forcibly than a lady should speak.

"Do you need some help?"

The masculine voice had a light brogue; Irish, Ella thought. "Who is it?" she asked, looking around in alarm. The girls, confused and sleepy, now seemed upset by their mother's tone; they took hold of her skirts, and she pulled them against her with the arm she wasn't using to hold Anthony's sleeping body.

"Name's Jebidiah. Jebidiah Hatcher." Ella could make out the shape of a man as he climbed the steps to the platform. "The railroad pays me three dollars a month to stay here every evening until the 8:45 to Atlanta leaves. Sometimes there's freight to load on or off. Even more rarely, there are passengers. Usually, there's neither, so I stand here and smoke a cigar till the train goes, then I head home. Which is what I was doing, when I saw you get off. You're Wade's sister, aye? The married one, who lives in London?"

"Yes, I'm Wade's sister," she said cautiously. "I don't think I know you, though – do I?"

"I don't think we've ever been introduced proper, no," he answered. Ella had the feeling he was laughing at her, which would have maddened her if she wasn't worried about more important matters. "As I said, I'm Jebidiah Hatcher. Most folks call me Jeb. I work for your brother and your cousin Beau occasionally, doing carpentry work when they need an extra hand. They're building this fall, so just lately the work's been steady."

"Do you have a buggy?" she asked hopefully. "One I could rent, maybe? I – you see, I forgot to send a telegram to let them know I was coming. The children have been sick, and – well, I need transportation, if you have any."

Her eyes had adjusted to the moonlight some, and she could see him shake his head. "Now what use would a common man like me have for a buggy?" he asked, and she could see his white teeth as he smiled at the idea. "No, no buggy. But I do have a wagon, and it's my idea that the boss would be aggravated with me if he discovered that I'd left his sister and her three little ones out on a train platform all night, and them with no shelter but a wooden bench." He shrugged. "So I'll give you a ride to Pine Bloom if you want."

"That's a great deal of trouble," she said.

"You're right, it is. But I have to go anyway, so you might as well go with me," he said.

A little disconcerted – the polite thing would have been for him to deny that it was any trouble – Ella said, "I'm not really certain if I should travel with a stranger."

He sighed. "Suit yourself. Were I you, I'd be more worried about sitting out here alone with your three babies for the two or so hours it'll take me to get to Pine Bloom and send someone back to fetch you, but I'll not force you, if you'd rather not -"

He turned away, and somehow that he did not press her made her feel that going with him would be safe. He didn't seem like a man who would harm her or her children. She looked down at the girls; their faces were so pale and white -

"Wait," she said. "I – I'll go with you to Pine Bloom. Can we take the luggage?"

He shook his head.

"We'll have to walk a block or two to get the wagon," he said. "I'll shut your trunks in the ticket booth; they'll be okay there until your step-father can come back and get them."

He struck a match and lit a lantern that hung from a post near the small building that housed the ticket-sellers booth. The booth was a little larger than it had looked in the darkness, because it extended further back than she had been able to see. Taking a key ring from the pocket of his overalls, Jeb opened the door and put Ella's trunks and heavy case inside. After securing the building again, he took hold of the lantern and made an expansive gesture in the direction of the street. "After you, my lady,' he said, his teeth flashing whitely. In the dim light of the lantern, she could see his face for the first time.

"I do remember you," she said. "You used to come to Tara in the summers and play with Wade and Beau and Burl." She smiled faintly, remembering. "Not me, of course. I was just a girl, after all, and the last thing any of you wanted was to have girls around."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I've since changed my mind, I swear it," he answered lightly. "Mind your feet, there are steps here -" Even with his reminder, she stumbled, the competing forces of her daughters tugging at her skirts and the weight of her son in her arms combining to throw her off-balance. "Here, let me take the boy," he said. Setting the lantern on the ground, he turned to her.

His arm slid between the warm sleeping body of her son and the finely woven wool of her dress. She felt the closeness of him sharply, as if he had been very cold, which he was not, or as if his touch was prolonged, which it also was not. In short, Ella could not have said why such a brief and business-like touch left her so aware of him but it did. She could smell him, the scent of cigars and horses and freshly cut wood. She could hear the sound of his breath. This close, she could see in the lantern-light that his eyes were a deep blue – the color of the ocean on a clear day – and his hair a warm russet a few shades lighter than hers. Then he pulled away, taking the sleepy child with him.

Ella turned to the girls. "Come, Lorena, Sophie, hold on to mama's hand instead of her skirt," Ella said, her voice calm as calm as if nothing had happened. Yet something had.

What?

Jeb picked up the lantern, and Ella followed him two blocks to a small, neat cottage that he said was his. He had bought it last year, he told her, when the widowed former schoolteacher who owned it retired and went to live in Charleston with her sister. He led her around back to a small barn – hardly more than an aggrandized shed – which housed a single draft horse.

Carefully, Jeb hung the lantern from a hook set beside the door. Then he lay Anthony down on a bale of hay, where the boy immediately turned on his side and curled into a ball. Even in the low light of the single lantern, Ella could see that the building was almost obsessively neat, with all the equipment and feed stowed or stored properly. The animal whose head protruded from the single stall was a large and healthy beast, black with white markings.

"An Irish Draft Horse," Ella said in surprise.

Jeb looked up from collecting the harness he would need, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. "Is that what Daisy is?" he asked, leading her from the stall. She seemed to understand exactly what was required of her, allowing Jeb to lead her to the wagon and slide the heavy collar around her neck with no demur. "And here I was, thinking she was just a mongrel."

"Irish Draft Horses are rather mongrel. The breed's only been recognized for about twenty years, so until very recently, the standards varied considerably." she said, studying the sturdy build of the horse. "They are created, you might say, of a little of this, a little of that. Yours, I think, is mostly Shire and Percheron, with perhaps a small – very small – bit of Clydesdale. It's very rare for a horse that's even an eighth Clydesdale not to have feathering around the hocks – it breeds true, but your mare doesn't have any. So I'd say no more than a sixteenth. Perhaps none at all, but there's something about the coloring and the way she walks that makes me think there is some."

"You know horses?" he asked, as he worked. Harness jingled lightly in his hands as he moved with practiced smoothness around the tall mare, placing the saddle pad on her back and tightening it expertly.

"My husband and I run a horse breeding operation," she answered, unable to draw her gaze away from him as he harnessed the horse to the wagon. "He takes care of the breeding stock for racing; I do the same for the draft animals. Much less romantic than racing horses, but also more steadily profitable."

"I've always thought a steady profit a good thing," he said.

"Well, you'd not be in favor with my husband and his friends then," she said, aware that her voice was a little bitter. "They tease me often about 'my very American ability' to turn a profit."

He laughed. "Sounds like sour grapes to me," he commented. "You'd think a man would be proud that his wife has a good mind for business."

"You'd think a lot of things," Ella said. She remembered Justin, and the way he and his friends had always downplayed her business acumen, even though her ability to juggle finances had saved their business four years ago, when Justin's gambling debts had gotten out of control and threatened to swamp them. Not only had her husband never thanked her for that, he had joined with his friends in mocking her. Her mouth tightened with the memory; after a moment, she became aware that Jeb was looking at her oddly. "What?" she asked.

"I was just noticing how much you look like your ma," he said mildly.

"I don't look anything at all like Mama!" she exclaimed. "She has black hair, and green eyes, while I have red hair and blue eyes, like my father."

"Your coloring isn't the same, I agree," he said, turning back to hooking the trace chains to the wagon tree. "But the shape of your face, the way you hold yourself, your expression just now – all of those remind me of your ma, when she's in a temper."

Ella laughed. "Katie calls it Mama's 'Run! Hide!' look," she said.

"Says a lot for the lasses' brains, too," he commented. "Daisy here is ready now. Let me set the lad in the wagon bed – yes, and the girls, too – and we can make some rough padding so they won't get bruised back there."

"How?" she asked curiously.

"Daisy won't mind giving a bit of hay to the cause, will you, Daisy?" he asked the big mare, patting her on the withers. The mare turned her head towards him, nuzzling his hand as though looking for a treat. He laughed. "When we get back, I promise, darlin,'" he told her. "An extra carrot and a full feed bag for you, aye?"

He stroked her muzzle gently, and Ella watched his capable hands; it surprised her that such a strongly built man should be so gentle. "In the meantime, though, we can use the hay – no, darlin', I promise you'll be getting it back! - and fill these old feed bags. It'll stay together that way, and give more padding for the babies."

"Yes, that makes sense," Ella said. She accepted the neatly folded stack of feed bags he handed her, and watched as he forked the bale of hay apart.

They filled half-a-dozen bags before Jeb said, "That will do, I reckon."

The girls lay in the wagon bed beside their brother, all three of them sound asleep. Jeb lifted them each in turn while Ella slipped the hay-filled bags beneath them. "I've a horse blanket in the barn to cover them," he said, turning in that direction. "Not exactly silk sheets, but it will keep them warm."

"Yes, and I'm very grateful," she said, smiling at him as he helped her up onto the wagon seat. "I would have been in an awful situation if you hadn't come along."

He shrugged as he climbed on the seat beside her. "It's not a big thing," he said. "Like I said, the railroad pays me to be there, and Wade would have my hide if I left his sister and her young'uns stranded."

"I suppose he would," she said. "Wade is very much a family man. He always was very protective of me and Mama, not to mention the twins. I don't need much help from him nowadays, but I'm sure he would be just the same."

Ella had wondered what she would talk to him about as they traveled, but she need not have worried. No sooner had the last lights of the small town faded from sight behind them, than she was overtaken by a profound sleepiness. It was all she could do to grip the seat to stop herself from falling off as the unsprung wagon lurched from one hole to the next. "I should have put you in the back with the babies," she heard him say in a gruff voice. Then she felt his arm come around her, and she leaned against him. He felt so strong and safe, and she fell instantly into the deepest sleep she'd had since she left London, nine days earlier. Even the jolting of the wagon on the abominable roads didn't awaken her; only when it stopped, and she felt the stillness did she open her eyes, suddenly alarmed.

"It's all right," she heard his voice beside her and found comfort in it. "I only stopped because Pine Bloom is just around the next bend, and I thought you'd like to be sitting up by yourself and a proper distance away before we turned in the gate. I know it was sleeping and not spooning that had you so close, but if one of the servants were to see you, it might start talk that would get back to your husband and cause trouble."

Ella sat up and yawned. She would blame her sleepiness for the next words that came out of her mouth. "Since my husband keeps a woman in a little house on Demeter street, I don't think he has any right to talk, do you?"

During the slight pause that ensued, Ella had time to wake up and realize what a terribly personal thing she had let slip – and to a total stranger! Before she could be too mortified, however, his lovely deep drawl came out of the darkness. "A man who is greedy and foolish enough to behave like that might do anything," he said. "Still, best to avoid trouble if we can." He clucked to Daisy and set the wagon in motion again.

They drove up the short road that lead to the house. Lined with tall oaks, it was a lovely sight during the day, but now, it was only dark and chilly. Ella shivered. "Cold?" he asked. "Well, we'll be there soon."

They emerged from the trees and stopped in front of the house. A lantern burned on the porch; Ella knew that Pork would turn it off the very last thing he did before retiring to bed. So she wasn't surprised when the door opened and a familiar figure appeared.

"Who's there?" Scarlett asked.

"Mama?" Ella called.

"Ella? Ella, what on earth -"

But she had no time to finish. Ella scrambled down from the wagon in a way which would have seriously disturbed the good teachers at Miss Lizenby's School of Deportment, and ran to her mother. Flinging her arms around her, she burst into tears.

* * *

**Well, Ella is home. Under the circumstances, I can't blame her for wanting her mother. She's been under a lot of stress, one way or another.**

**The Irish Draft Horse is a recognized breed that came about pretty much as I described. I tried to put a picture of one up beside this story; it cropped off a little of the head, but you get the idea that the horse is big-boned and powerful. A work horse.**

**Next chapter, things start to get really interesting, and we begin to see how the kids' fighting will impact the grown-ups decisions. They can hardly take anything sensitive to the sheriff, can they?**

**I love to get reviews, so if you have any comments, please send them to me. Until next time...**


	8. The Past Rises Up

**The Past Rises Up**

* * *

Rhett waited out on the porch for Scarlett. Anthony had been tucked away in the nursery with the boys, who had never even awakened, and Ella's two girls were in with the girl twins, who had. All of the children were or would be overjoyed to see their cousins, so Rhett anticipated no problems there. He had offered Jeb a bed and a place to stable his horse overnight, but Jeb had turned him down, saying that Daisy did best in her own barn. Rhett thought that was just a polite way of getting out of something he didn't really want to do, but Jeb wasn't any concern of his, so he let it go. Now he sipped a glass of cold tea and wondered what problems had made Ella throw herself in her mother's arms earlier.

"Is she all right?" he asked Scarlett, when at last she joined him. He poured her a glass of tea from the pitcher beside him; it had become their evening ritual, to sit out on the porch and discuss the events of their days.

Scarlett shrugged. "In the physical sense. She'll be all right tomorrow, with a little sleep in a bed that doesn't move, and a good meal inside of her. But she's very upset about...other things." Scarlett paused, taking a long drink of tea. Rhett waited with a patience that had been hard-won; he knew that pushing her would only result in an angry quarrel, but waiting might mean that she would talk to him.

After a moment, she sighed. "Is it too difficult to talk about?" he asked at last, his voice very gentle. He knew that Scarlett often felt very protective of her two eldest children, perhaps because she felt that she hadn't protected them enough early in their lives.

"Justin has a mistress," Scarlett said, abruptly, forcing the words out. "Ella says that he's been keeping a woman – or I suppose I should say, a series of women – in a little house he owns in a different area of London. She says he's been doing this since she was expecting Anthony."

"Ah," Rhett said, taking another drink of his tea.

"She wanted advice from me. Ha! As if I'd be the person to ask about what to do if your husband is unfaithful. I couldn't keep you from consorting with Belle Watling, who was a common prostitute, and probably others like her, as well."

Rhett felt as if he were picking his way across a field of booby traps, and he had the idea that there was no possible good end to this conversation. "Scarlett," he said, as gently as he could, "that was after you kicked me out of your bed after Bonnie was born -"

"I'm not talking about then!" she said. "You always went to her, Rhett. We hadn't been back from our honeymoon for a week when one of the ladies who called on me told me that you'd been seen in that Watling creature's place. Everyone knew it! They all laughed at me behind my back – not even three months married, and my husband is already back dealing with bad women. All I could do was hold my head up and pretend it didn't matter." Scarlett's voice held anger, but underneath the anger, he could hear the hurt.

Rhett reached out and took her hand gently. At first her fingers remained curled tightly, but he worked slowly, caressing and loosening, until he could clasp her open hand in his. "Scarlett, of all the things that I regret the most about our first marriage, that I did not end my relationship with Belle when you and I married is high on the list. I should have. Not doing so was foolish – and what's more, I knew it. But there was part of me that was so angry with you for continuing to care for Ashley, and that part of me didn't care that my behavior gave you reason to think badly of me. I told myself that it was none of your business -"

"None of my business if my husband was visiting a – a house of ill-repute? Rhett, you couldn't have been so foolish as to believe that. Why, just the possibility that you would get a disease and pass it on to me, or our children -"

"I never slept with them -" he interrupted.

She stared at him.

He grimaced, and his hand automatically came up to stroke his mustache.

"Not until you had kicked me out of your bedroom," he amended. "After that, all bets were off, but before, I was faithful."

"But you went there regularly," she protested. "Once a week, sometimes more often."

"To visit an old friend. I played cards, or occasionally dice, and had a few drinks. Then I came home to you." He sighed deeply. "I told myself that it was the same thing as your friendship with Ashley Wilkes – that if you could visit his mills, I could visit the business I shared with Belle, but the truth is, I knew better. I knew you would hear, and that it would sting your pride, and I wanted it to hurt you. Because you hurt me, every time you went to see him."

Scarlett looked at him, and even in the dim light of the setting moon, she could see that he was telling the truth. She turned her hand so that she could return his grip. "Oh, Rhett. What fools we were," she mourned softly.

"I agree. We were idiots, and so we lost each other, and had to go through a great deal of pain to get each other back."

"Let's do better this time," she suggested.

He laughed. "Scarlett, we are doing better," he told her. Bending his head, he kissed her, long and sweet, until they were both breathless.

"Mama?"

It was Ella's voice. _Ah, the joys of family life,_ Rhett thought, quirking an eyebrow and smiling ironically as he settled back in the swing.

"Yes, Ella?"

To his secret delight, Scarlett didn't sound any happier about the interruption than he was.

"I just remembered something," Ella said, padding out on the porch, barefooted, clad only in a plain cotton wrapper over a nightgown that her mother had loaned her. "It might not be important, but it might, too, so I wanted to tell you before I forgot again. Do you remember Justin's cousin, Rodney? The one who was here for the wedding?"

"Yes, I remember him quite well, as a matter of fact. He was – an unpleasant fellow."

"He still is," Ella said. "One of the good things about not going to any more balls with Diantha is that I won't have to dance with him for courtesy anymore. Anyway, I know that you had unpleasant dealings with him when he came for the wedding, so I just thought I should tell you that he's back."

"Back in America? Are you sure?" Rhett sounded concerned.

"Yes, I'm certain. I saw him disembark from the ship at the same time I did, and what's more, he saw me. He _hid_ from me, Uncle Rhett, when he saw me there on the docks. What's more, in the last several weeks, I've seen him talking to Diantha several times, and she has always despised him. It occurred to me that they might be planning some kind of trouble, so I thought I might should tell you about it."

Scarlett sighed. "I do hope not," she said. "We've definitely already had all the trouble we want with him." She rose lightly to her feet. "I believe I am ready for bed. I know it's earlier than usual, but I'm plumb tuckered out."

Rhett laughed at his wife's exaggerated version of country talk. "I am, too," he agreed. "Ella, tomorrow we'll warn the boys about him – Beau and Wade I mean -"

"Will they even remember who he is?" Ella asked.

"They won't have forgotten. They were part of the unpleasant dealings I had with him," Rhett assured her.

"Oh, were they?" Ella asked, rising to her feet. "I don't think you ever did tell me all the story; I'd like to hear it sometime."

Scarlett glanced at Rhett. "Yes, I suppose I should tell you some of it, just so that you understand why we think he might be more dangerous than the word 'unpleasant' implies," Scarlett said. "Good night, dear. Sleep well."

"And remember, you're welcome to say here as long as you like," Rhett said. "You and the children."

"Thank you, Uncle Rhett," Ella said. She kissed her mother and stepfather, then went back to the bedroom allotted to her.

* * *

In the morning, things looked a little better for Ella. It was Saturday, so the children were home from school, and Scarlett had planned to spend the day with the girls, picking apples from the orchard not far from the house. "We always take a picnic," she told Ella. "There's a creek that runs nearby; after we eat, the girls swim and play near the water. Your girls are welcome to come along; I'd love to have them, and Lanie and Katie will enjoy having younger girls to tend."

"I suppose it's all right," Ella said uncertain if the girls would want to go. They were such city girls; even when they went to the English countryside, they were never allowed to romp or get their clothes dirty. To her surprise, the girls reacted to the idea with wild enthusiasm. Lorena (who was already being called Lorry by her 'Aunt' Lanie, confided to her mother that it sounded like 'ever so much fun.'

"If they're going to stay for more than a few days, they'll need some play outfits," Scarlett said, surveying the two younger girls. Their dresses, of plain muslin trimmed with ribbon to match their eyes(green for Lorena Scarlett, blue for Sophie Ellen), were the simplest they had, and still far too fancy for an ordinary day at Pine Bloom. "Anthony, as well. We'll go to town in the next several days and buy some material. Dilcey and her daughters can sew them up in a few days; they make extra money doing that. A few simple dresses for the girls, some overalls for Anthony."

"I think that would be an excellent idea," Ella answered.

"Dilcey says she fed Anthony a bit of thin oatmeal this morning, and he kept it down fine. She'll be glad to keep him with her, if you'd like to go visit Sally Jo. I know you and she have always been so close... Did you know that she's expecting?"

"How wonderful!" Ella said with enthusiasm. "I'd really love to go and talk to her, if Anthony is all right. Sometimes he doesn't take well to strangers."

"You can check on him before we head to the barn," Scarlett said. She didn't sound in the least worried, and for good reason; when the two women stopped by the kitchen, Anthony was sitting in a high chair as no fewer than three of Dilcey's younger granddaughters played simple games with him, singing silly songs and putting their hands over his eyes for peek-a-boo.

"Don't you worry 'bout him, Miz Ella. Dose girls loves to have dem a little doll-baby to play wit'."

"If you're sure," Ella said. Dilcey just waved her away.

* * *

Sally Jo half-expected Ella to visit. She had heard of her unheralded arrival from Wade, who had heard it very early that morning from Jeb. Wade wanted to wait around to speak to his sister on the subject of being more careful, but Sally Jo waved him away. "There will be plenty of time to read her the riot act," she told him, laughing. Wade went as she ordered; he would do almost anything to please his lovely wife, especially when she glowed with good health and happiness the way she did now.

Wade was glad that she was expecting their first child, but part of him was happy that they had gotten five good years together, just the three of them, before a new baby came to divide his wife's attention. Will spent half his time at Pine Bloom, romping with his aunts and uncles, so Wade and Sally Jo had enjoyed long periods of privacy. They had reciprocated by inviting all the children to stay with them at least once a month. Uncle Rhett had solemnly told him that looking forward to that was the only thing that saved his sanity, more than once, but Wade didn't believe it. Uncle Rhett looked younger and healthier than he had all those years ago when he had been married to Mama the first time.

So Wade went, when Sally Jo shooed him out. He had plenty of work to do; Jeb's work ethic was excellent, but some of the other men slacked off if the boss wasn't right there, watching everything that happened.

Wade had only just left when the knock came at the door. Sally Jo answered it, smiling, certain that it would be Ella.

Rodney stood there, instead.

"Hello, Mrs Hamilton," he said mockingly. "Haven't you become – Americanized." He surveyed the plain gingham dress she wore, and her hair piled carelessly on top of her head, and his tone made it clear that, in his view, she might as well have become one of the savages that still lived out west.

Sally Jo had known and disliked Rodney since she was a girl. Wade had confided in her what had happened when the hotel in Atlanta had burned down, and Sally Jo had laughed at the fitting revenge taken on him.

"And you're a lot cleaner than you were when Wade saw you last, but it doesn't mean you stink less," Sally Jo said, contempt dripping from her words like venom from a snake's fangs. "Get out of here, Rodney; no one wants to see you ever again."

He put his hand on the door, holding it open when she would have slammed it in his face. His eyes had narrowed with anger at the insult, but his face didn't change in any other way. He wore the expression of a man who was certain he had the upper hand.

"And I see you're expecting again," he said, his voice low and deadly. "Well, at least this time, you'll know who the father is."

Sally Jo froze, incredulous. Of all the people she might have wanted to know her secret, Rodney was at the absolute bottom of the list.

"That's right," he told her softly. "I know everything...including the identity of Will's father." He handed her an envelope. Sally Jo took it with numb fingers. "Give this to your husband when he gets home. It gives him my terms for not telling everyone in the county what I know."

"Th-they won't believe you," she said, knowing that she sounded weak and afraid. She _was _weak and afraid.

"Most of them probably won't," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "But it only takes one who does to tell your son...and I gather that your new family has some enemies. Perhaps I should begin spreading the tale at the local feed store, hmm? Or the sheriff's office?" He stepped back and gave her a mocking bow. "I'm sorry I won't be able to stay for lunch, Mrs Hamilton, but I have pressing business elsewhere. Give my compliments to your husband; the arrangements for our next meeting are in the envelope I gave you."

Sally Jo slammed the door as hard as she could, but it didn't erase the memory of his mocking smile, or the knowledge that her past had come back to haunt her, just as she had always known it would.

* * *

**One of the problems with writing in the mystery/suspense genre is you have to write about a variety of people. Yesterday, it was Jeb, who everyone agrees was a nice man... but today, it's Rodney, and after writing one small scene with him, I feel like I need a shower. It's for a good cause...what would a story be without a villain... but yuck!**

**So, what do you think? Are some of the loose threads beginning to come together? I hope I know where this is going, unless Muse falls in love with another new and shiny idea. If she does, all bets are off, and I just hang onto my hat. Reviews are always welcome!**


	9. Rodney Spreads Poison

**Rodney Spreads Poison**

* * *

Ella took her time saddling the mare her mother had told her she could take. Gigi was half quarter horse, half morgan, a little more spirited than most of the riding horses here. Scarlett sometimes rode, but the fact that her father and her middle daughter had both died in riding accidents made her wary of high-spirited horses. This mare was usually Rhett's choice when he went with the children on their outings.

Ella simply enjoyed the pleasure of the day, taking her time and finding joy in all the small things that she normally had no chance to do. In England, it would be unheard of for her to saddle her own horse. She did everything just so, brushing and currying Gigi until her golden-brown coat gleamed in the sunlight that streamed in the open doors. She checked her hooves for stones, and made sure the shoes fit properly and had no loose nails; Gigi was a little restive for this process, but by dint of soothing words and a couple of carrots, Ella was able to complete the task to her satisfaction.

Once she had saddled the horse, Ella led her outside. A single incident, a long time ago, of being knocked off a horse as it exited the barn had been enough to rid her of the habit of mounting indoors. She stopped Gigi in the middle of the open area and mounted. She wore a split-skirt riding habit and thus rode astride. she had never been able to abide riding side-saddle, finding it uncomfortable and insecure.

Feeling no sense of urgency, Ella cantered along the road. The September sunshine warmed her nicely, and she pushed all thought of the perennial fog and rain of England to the back of her mind. She wanted to do nothing but enjoy the day.

She waved at the men working at the warehouse. She would have stopped, but she saw that Wade was there, and she felt no urgency to face the lecture she would receive from him. Goodness knows, she had kicked herself for her failure to let anyone know she was coming. She didn't really need more lecture from Wade, but she knew that she would get it, anyway. He couldn't help it; his nature made him protective.

Only a mile or so down the road, Wade's house came into view. Wade built it the year he and Sally Jo married, a tidy two-story wooden house with a deep wrap-around porch. He had left plenty of room to add on, when the babies came, and Ella was glad that dream was coming true. Wade and fatherhood just seemed to fit naturally together; Ella found it harder to picture Wade _without_ someone to take care of.

As the house came into view, Ella could see someone else, mounted on a big roan, just riding away. She did not catch even a glimpse of the person's face. Surprised when they did not respond to her friendly wave, instead galloping away in the direction of town, Ella shrugged and turned into the gate. Dismounting, she tied Gigi to the hitching post near the fence.

She knocked lightly on the door, waited a few minutes, then rapped again, harder. Perhaps Sally Jo had gone out with Wade to check on the animals? Mama said she did that sometimes, though not so much now that she was pregnant and often felt unwell in the mornings. Ella was about to leave when she heard a sound from inside, a very faint sound that sounded like a sob. She hesitated, then reached determinedly for the door knob, turning it and pushing the door open. If nothing was amiss, she could always apologize.

"Sally Jo? Are you here, sister?" she called, stepping into the dimly lit foyer. She heard no reply, only another of the low sobs. Following in the direction it seemed to come from, she moved past the stairs to the kitchen, a bright, sunny room, and found Sally Jo sitting at the table, her head buried in her arms, crying as if her heart would break. "Sally? What's the matter, darling?" Ella went to her in alarm.

Sally Jo sat up, and tried fruitlessly to wipe the evidence of her crying away. "Oh, nothing," she said, trying hard to smile. The expression wouldn't stay put, though, and fresh tears kept welling up in her eyes. "I – I'm just really emotional right now, and I can't seem to get past it."

Ella looked at her friend, her gaze searching. She went to the basin and wet a wash cloth, bringing it back and using it to gently wipe Ella's face. "Now," she told her friend laying the cool cloth over her red, swollen eyes, "I'm going to make us both a cup of tea, and find a bite to eat. And then we're going to sit here until either you tell me what's really wrong, or Wade comes home to take care of you. Whichever comes first."

Sally Jo sighed. "A cup of tea would be lovely," she agreed. "But I don't think I could eat; my stomach is all knotted up. And as far as what's wrong, I – I couldn't possibly tell you, Ella. It's too shameful."

Ella shook her head. "Darling, we're best friends, have been since we were ten or so. There isn't anything you could tell me that would cause me to stop being your friend. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here." She busied herself making tea, filling the kettle with fresh water and putting it on the stove to heat.

Sally Jo just shook her head. "I can't talk about it, she replied adamantly.

"Is it about William?" Ella asked.

Sally Jo stared at her with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean? What about William?" she asked, the frantic tone of her voice giving away the accuracy of Ella's guess.

"Just that I know enough about you to know what would upset you this way. I saw Wade working as I passed, so it's not him. I can only assume that it's something to do with William, but when I left Pine Bloom, he was fine, and if he had been injured or taken ill, you would have gone to him, not sat here crying. So if it isn't Wade or William's health, it must be their emotional well-being, and let's face it, the way Wade dotes on you, it's very unlikely there's a problem with him. He'd cut off his right hand to spare you pain. So it must be William. Is this about who his father is?"

Sally Jo had begun to relax under Ella's flow of words, but now she stiffened. Ignoring how her sister-in-law glared at her, Ella placed cups and saucers on the table, along with a plate of cookies. "How did you know? About William's father?" Sally Jo whispered harshly, grabbing her arm in a rough grip. "Did Wade tell you?"

Ella patted her hand gently. "No, of course not, darling. Like I just said, Wade would sooner cut off his right hand than hurt you; he'll carry your secrets with him to the grave. But... I really always knew, I think."

Rising, she went to the stove and made tea from the water that had begun to boil. The homey chore kept her busy, and her back to Ella, for several minutes, allowing the other woman to recover her composure.

"How did you guess?" Sally Jo asked, forcing herself to take a sip of tea.

"I've always strongly suspected that there was something," Ella answered. "Mostly because it's hard for me to believe that, as much as you always wanted children, and as much as you cried on my shoulder about never having them, you wouldn't have _told_ me, if Geoffrey had… recovered... his ability to create them with you. Not in a vulgar way, of course, dearest, but, yes, I think you would have told me. Instead, I found out about you pregnancy when you were four months along and could no longer hide it."

Ella smiled at her. "Drink some more tea. It will warm you up"

"Is that all? Just that you thought I would have told you?"

Ella shook her head gently. "No. There's also William himself. Forgive me, but I couldn't help but notice that for the first several months of his life, you were quite cold to him. You didn't feed him, or play with him, or pay him any particular attention. Even given that we come from a social sphere where women don't have to be burdened with caring for children if they don't want to, it was so unlike you. You always wanted children. So I had to consider why you might have changed."

Sally Jo's trembling fingers instinctively sought the warmth of the teacup. "If you can figure it out, other people could have," she said. "Maybe there was never any hope of keeping it quiet."

"I think you're wrong," Ella said, keeping her voice gentle. "For one thing, your behavior was odd to me only because I know you so well; to other women of our acquaintance, it would have seemed quite normal." She nibbled delicately on a cookie. "Even the change in your behavior after Geoffrey's death, from indifferent to loving, would not have seemed suspicious to anyone but me. And of course, the ladies in London, who know of the earlier events, are not here to see the final proof."

"What final proof?" Sally Jo asked. Ella smiled.

"Why, William's appearance, of course. Everyone here assumes that William gets his red hair from you, and that's probably true, but those blue eyes? Except for his hair, there's nothing in William that's you, and nothing that's Geoffrey, either, with his brown eyes and sandy hair. William is tall and husky for his age, not thin and graceful, like you and Geoffrey. No one here will ever notice, and if they do remark that he's not like you, they'll just think he must take after Geoffrey, not realizing that he looked less like William than you do."

"So you don't think anyone else could guess, just randomly?" To Ella's dismay, this seemed to cause Sally Jo further anguish instead of comfort, as she had intended.

"I think it very unlikely that anyone here has enough knowledge to guess," Ella said.

Sally Jo's eyes filled with fresh tears. "Then he must be telling the truth. Geoffrey really did tell someone!"

"Who must have told the truth?" Ella asked gently.

"Rodney! He says that he knows who William's father is, and how he came to be."

* * *

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow; it sure was warm, for September. Most days, he worked on the new co-op warehouse that was going up near the Jonesboro road, but today he needed to ride out and check the stock in the far forty acres. As dry as it had been, he needed to see that the cows had water, and that the grass was still good. If they had cropped it clean, or if the creek had gone dry, he might need to bring them back to the home pasture earlier than usual, which would mean less hay to cut to see them through the winter.

As he crossed the Jonesboro road, he saw a rider coming towards him. Though he wasn't nearly as good at recognizing horses as his cousin Ella, he did recognize the rider, and so he reluctantly halted, waiting for Rodney to catch up with him. He had no desire at all to talk to the man, not after what he had done to Penny at Ella's wedding, but Rhett had spread the news about his unexpected presence in the county, and it would be best if he could find out what Rodney was doing here. Beau knew it would not be anything good. Perhaps he would say something rude about Penny, and give Beau a reason to hit him.

To Beau's surprise, Rodney seemed disposed to be affable, even friendly. "Just the man I wanted to talk to," Rodney said. Beau instantly became even more suspicious.

"What do you want?" Beau said, his voice hard.

"Why, just to give you a bit of information about your father," Rodney said.

"My father is dead," Beau answered.

"I know," Rodney said, "Such a pity, really. I liked your father quite a lot, though our acquaintance was very brief. We had a lot in common, though, and I completely forgive him for trying to kill me. Nothing I wouldn't have done myself, if the circumstances had been reversed. I wonder if Captain Butler feels the same, though?"

"What are you talking about?" Beau looked confused.

"Did they not tell you what happened the night the hotel in Atlanta burned down? Such a shame, when families can't be honest with each other."

Beau wanted to hit him, to make him shut up, but – hadn't he always known, deep inside, that there was something false about what they told him? Something in the way they spoke, their voices just a little too hearty, and the way they wouldn't meet his eyes when they talked about his father. Beau knew that they did have a secret, a big one, and it was this knowledge that made him tighten his grip on the reins and say tersely, "Well, go on."

"Pardon?" Rodney seemed surprised at his clipped tone.

"Obviously you came here to tell me something," Beau said. "I don't believe that you're looking out for my welfare, or that you sympathize with me because you say my family is keeping secrets – that's hogwash, and we both know it. So if you have something to tell me, do so, or I'm going to continue on my way."

Rodney's eyes narrowed. Seven years had passed since events surrounding the wedding, and the bashful eighteen-year-old boy he remembered was gone now, replaced by a man who looked at him coldly and meant every word he said.

"Oh, very well," Rodney said pettishly. "Your father was responsible for the fire at the Kimball Hotel. He set it deliberately, to try to kill Rhett. When you rescued him in that basement, you were nearly killed by a fire your own father set. And then the next day, he wound up dead, after having a terrible accident in a house where only you – doped into unconsciousness – your Aunt India, and your Aunt Scarlett were present. Which one of them do you think killed him?"

Beau kept himself together with an effort. He had no time to react now, and he wouldn't give this little cockroach the satisfaction, anyway. "I don't think either of them killed him," he said, his voice hard. "I do think, however, that you should be careful about dropping hints that my father's death was anything but a terrible accident. If my Uncle Rhett hears about it, he's liable to come looking for you with a buggy whip. Or a gun."

"He's in enough trouble with the law as it is. He wouldn't dare to cause any more -"

"If you think that, you don't know Uncle Rhett very well," Beau said evenly. "In defense of Aunt Scarlett, I don't think there's much he wouldn't do. If I were you, I'd think about all the ways he could make a man just– disappear. Burying him under a pig sty like the one Wade rolled you in last time he saw you, for instance. I can think of three places just like that within a ten minute ride of here, Rodney. So I suggest that the best thing for you would be to leave – while you still can."

Turning his horse sharply, he galloped off, leaving Rodney watching with furious eyes. Beau's reaction hadn't been what he planned at all.

* * *

**I think I like Beau's description of Rodney (this little cockroach) best. But bad as he's been so far, there's still worse ahead.  
**

**Sally Jo is upset. So is Beau, though he hid it from Rodney. What will they do?**

**Next chapter, probably tomorrow. **

**Let me know what you think. I always love to hear from you.**


	10. Wade Gets Mad

**Wade Gets Mad**

* * *

Wade went home at lunch time. He often did, now that Sally Jo was unable to ride out and join him, even though she had offered to make him a lunch. He enjoyed spending the time with her. No one else made him as happy as she did; just opening the door and seeing her there, smiling at him, was enough to make his whole day brighter. So when he opened the kitchen door on this particular sunny day and saw her sitting with tear tracks on her face, he turned an angry look on Ella.

"What's going on?" he asked, reaching for Sally Jo's hand.

Ella looked momentarily confused, then shook her head and smiled. "You see what I mean?" she said to Sally Jo. "He would give his right arm to protect you from any harm. It even makes him do irrational things, like leap to the conclusion that your best friend is the one who upset you."

"Sally Jo?" he asked, ignoring his sister. "What's the matter, hon? Why have you been crying?"

Sally Jo looked down at the table. She wanted to brush him off, tell him that it was just being pregnant that made her emotional, but she knew she could not. Rodney offered too big a threat to try to deal with on her own. They needed to present a united front against him, and for that Wade had to know what was going on."

She let out her breath, the quickly said, "Rodney came here this morning."

"Rodney?" Wade looked genuinely taken aback, as if he expected anything but that. Then his eyes narrowed. "What did that scoundrel say to you?" he asked. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him if he so much as laid a hand on you!"

Sally Jo looked alarmed. "No, no, he didn't touch me! It's just... he said... Wade, he knows about William. He said at least I would know who the father was this time, and – and – he gave me this envelope for you. I think he intends to blackmail us, Wade."

Wade looked at her. "Blackmail," he said, rolling the word around on his tongue like he'd never heard it before. Then he shook his head. "Sally Jo, you know we can't let him do that, don't you? I'll figure out some way to get rid of him, but we can't pay him, 'cause once we do, he'll keep coming back. Wanting more every time."

Sally Jo nodded. "I know. We'll just have to figure out some way to get rid of him. Maybe you could – I don't know, talk to him? Make him go away?"

Wade took a deep breath. "If I'm going to make him go away, it almost certainly is going to have to be more than talk," he said, quietly. "I'm going to have to scare him badly enough that he'll leave, and think twice before coming back."

Sally Jo shuddered, but after a moment, she reached out her hand and took his. "I wouldn't care," she said brokenly, "if it wouldn't matter so much. But for William's sake... William, and the new baby. They shouldn't have to hear such terrible things about their mother, especially when you know that he – Rodney – will make it sound like I agreed to it, as if I were a cheap -"

"Don't!" Wade gripped her hand tightly. "Don't torture yourself that way, Sally Jo. It wasn't your fault, what happened. Geoffrey was a bastard for doing what he did to you, and Rodney is an even bigger one for trying to take advantage of it."

He turned to Ella. "Will you stay here with her?" he asked. "I need to go round up some men – the ones I know I can trust – and find Rodney. Then I can make it clear to him why he should leave, and put him on a train to Savannah -"

"I think if it were me, I'd send someone with him to make sure he got on a ship," Ella said. "Rodney lives pretty much on hand-outs from my brother-in-law, who, to do him justice, is no fonder of Rodney than anyone else is. So if we got him back to England, it's doubtful that he would have enough money to come back any time soon..." Her voice trailed off, and she frowned.

"What?" Wade asked.

"I'm just wondering where Rodney got his information," she said. "He isn't the type that anyone would confide in; even Geoffrey, for all his faults, didn't make friends with Rodney. Unless he did and I don't know it. Sally Jo? Did he?"

"No. they were only acquaintances as far as I know," Sally Jo said, looking blank. "During the last few years – after the accident – Rodney never visited. Justin came sometimes, and his older brother, but never Rodney. Not once that I recall."

Ella nodded. "So how did he find out?" she asked. "And who financed his trip here?"

Wade shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

Ella sighed. "I suppose not. It just bothers me, not knowing."

"Anyway, will you two stay here while we go and look for Rodney?" Wade asked.

Sally Jo looked up at Wade. "I'd rather go to your Mama's for the evening," she said. "I'd feel better, being around people, and I'd really rather be where William is."

Wade shrugged. "That's probably actually better, anyway,"he agreed. "More people at Mama's, and none of them like him; Rodney would be a fool to go there. And if we end up being late, we can just sleep there tonight."

When they got to Pine Bloom, the place seemed crowded. Scarlett and Rhett, both sets of twins and William, Alex and Young Doctor Joe and his youngest half-brother, Tony were all there, along with Beau and Penny and their daughter, Irene, who was just eight weeks old. Add Ella's three children and several of the workers who were building the co-op and it seemed like a small mob. Since it was September, and the afternoons were still very hot, most of the adults were sitting on the porch, while the children chased each other around in the yard. Even Anthony joined in, and Ella was surprised and pleased to notice that all three of hers were flushed with exertion and happiness.

She dismounted even before she came in the yard. Gigi was just a bit high-spirited to be trusted to stay calm around a yard full of screaming children, so Ella started to tie her to the fence railing.

"I'll put her away for you, if you like," a deep, masculine voice said. Looking up, she saw Jeb standing a few feet away.

"Oh, - well, thank you. I'd appreciate that. I just didn't want to take her around the children. Gigi is a little high-spirited, and although she's not mean, she might kick if they startled her. The last thing we need is another horse-related accident in the family."

"Have there been so many of them, then?" he asked curiously, taking the reins from her gloved hand.

"Well, my younger sister and my maternal grandfather both died in riding accidents," Ella said. "And Sally Jo's first husband was crippled in a fall from a horse – he later died of complications from that, so I suppose you'd say it was ultimately fatal."

"That's a bit much for one family," he agreed. "Especially your little sister. Was she your full sibling? Did you have the same father?" He began to walk towards the barn, and it seemed only natural

"No," she said. "Bonnie was Uncle Rhett's daughter. She and Gene and Gerry would have been full siblings." When he gave her a puzzled look, she laughed and said, "Oh, I would have thought that everyone knew of Mama's scandalous past. She and Uncle Rhett divorced, you see, and Mama married the father of the older set of twins, Alex's brother."

"Ah, I see," he said. Glancing at her, he said, "Well I suppose I understand how a man might have trouble getting a certain woman out of his mind, even when he knows she's not to be his."

Ella smiled a little ruefully. "The truth is, I don't think there ever was a time when Mama didn't belong with Uncle Rhett, even when she was more-or-less happily married to another man. He was always the one for her."

"She's lucky they found each other again, then," he said, as they made their way around the side of the house towards the barn.

Ella laughed. "No luck to that. Wade decided that he and Mama should get back together, so he arranged to meet up with Uncle Rhett and invited him to my wedding. It was at Tara."

"I heard about it," he said softly.

"Only heard about it? I thought almost everyone in the county was there," she joked weakly.

"No," he said, responding in kind. "I've always thought the wedding of a beautiful girl to another man was a terrible thing to witness, so even if I was invited, I wouldn't have gone."

Ella felt the air go thick with tension between them, and she had no idea what she would have said then if her son, spotting her in the distance, hadn't called her name and run headlong toward them. "I'd better go head him off before he gets too close to the horse," she said awkwardly.

"That would probably be best," he agreed briskly. "I'll brush Gigi down, get her some water and feed, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Thank you." She flashed him a brilliant smile and walked quickly towards her son, scooping up into a exuberant embrace that ended up with what looked like half the dirt of the plantation transferred from him to her riding outfit. He threw his arms around her neck. "I missed you, Mama," he said, and suddenly the dirt seemed a small price to pay.

"I missed you too, darling," she whispered in his ear, then tickled him. He squirmed, giggling, and she set him down. "Go play with your sisters," she told him.

He put his hands on his hips and looked up at her sternly. "No!" he said. "Cousins! Dey is _boys_."

"Just like you, hmm, sweetie?"

"Like me," he agreed; seeing that she wasn't going to argue, he ran off to join the crowd of laughing, shrieking children.

Smiling and shaking her head, Ella headed to the front porch to join the rest of the adults.

* * *

Wade looked at Rhett. "Can I talk to you, Uncle Rhett?" he asked. "You, and Beau, and maybe Alex and Young Doc? It's about Rodney. But I need people I can trust." He glanced at the workers, who were talking to Alex and hadn't heard anything.

Rhett nodded, and went to speak to Alex, drawing him to one side. Alex glanced at Wade, then nodded briefly. Returning to the workers, Alex gave them what appeared to Beau from this distance to be instructions; he was in charge of the building because the actual site of the warehouse, picked for its nearness to the Jonesboro road, was on Mimosa land. And also because the other men who had invested in this project, ex-soldiers all, understood the need for a command structure if anything was to be accomplished. The workers needed to know who they took orders from; what those orders should be could be thrashed out where it wouldn't confuse the men who did the real work.

"Come over here, away from the children," Wade said, leading them to a spot near the barn. As they moved, Beau tried idly to count the children, but it was impossible; it looked like dozens. An only child himself, Beau heartily approved, and was glad that his daughter would have not only her own siblings(God willing), but nine or ten cousins to play with, as well; maybe more, if Wade and Sally Jo proved fruitful.

Beau had spent the time since he had spoken to Rodney debating how he wanted to handle the issues that Rodney had raised. His first idea was simply tell himself that Rodney lied, and ignore what he said. The problem with that approach was that he did not believe it, not completely and he suspected that his doubts would eat at him much more now that Rodney had brought them out in the open.

As an alternative, he could make an angry approach to Wade, Uncle Rhett, or even Aunt Scarlett. The flaw in that style was that he had a lot to lose. Quarreling with this family he had grown to regard as his own might mean permanent exile from them, making life in the small confines of the county difficult, if not impossible. Years of his toil had gone to make Twelve Oaks and Clayton County into a place where he had a future; he didn't want to jeopardize that if he didn't have to.

Still, he thought he must ask questions, and get answers he could live with. After he knew for sure what had happened during the time immediately before and after the hotel fire, then he could decide what he wanted to do about it. Perhaps he could simply ask Aunt Scarlett about it. Uncle Rhett or Wade might lie to him if they felt it necessary to protect her, but Beau didn't think Aunt Scarlett would lie. If she had killed his father, she would tell him so.

Looking at Wade's grim, serious expression, Beau didn't think now would be the time to ask. Aside from the confusion of children, animals and workers, Wade's face told of something really wrong, and Beau would willingly push his own feelings to the back of his mind to be there for his cousin, the closest thing Beau had ever had to a brother.

"Rodney came to my house today," Wade said, his voice hard. "He – he said something that really bothered Sally Jo, and threatened to spread malicious gossip about her if I don't pay him." He glanced around at the men listening to him. All of them were frowning; in the years since she had come here, Sally Jo had become a favorite of nearly everyone because of her kind heart and cheerful disposition. A few of them had wondered, at first, how Wade's 'fancy English lady' would fit in; none of them had taken well to Justin, and feared that Sally Jo might have a similar disposition. She had won them over by her gentleness, her willingness to pitch in and work alongside the other women, and her unfailing ability to see the best in everyone. No one wanted to see her or her son hurt.

"You can't pay, of course." Alex said. "If you do, he'll just want more and more. A rat like that would never be satisfied. Besides, I imagine he's looking for revenge for what you did after the hotel fire. From his point of view, you humiliated him; he wants to get his own back. I wouldn't put it past him to take your money and then spread lies, anyway."

"I agree," Wade said, and Beau nodded. "The question is, how can we stop him? You all know that gossip of the kind that he says he's going to spread is insidious; nobody ever comes right out and asks you about it, so there's no way to deny it. And no way to keep it from reaching William, and - and any other children."

Alex shrugged. "We can make him disappear, if you like," he told Wade bluntly. "It's really the only way to make sure your trouble with him is over." Rhett nodded agreement.

* * *

**I think Rodney is in trouble now! Alex and Rhett have both killed before, during their time as soldiers, so they wouldn't be as squeamish about the idea as maybe the younger men would be. And he has a point; killing Rodney would be the best way to silence him for good. So should they kill him?  
**

**Review and let me know what you think!**


	11. Swamp Things

**Swamp Things**

* * *

"Whoa!"

Alex turned swiftly to see who had spoken from inside the barn. Jeb emerged from the darkness, a currying brush in his hand. He shook his head at Alex.

"You need to make sure you're alone before you go talking like that, Alex," he said. "'Cause even though I'm not thinking about reporting you – sounds to me like you'd be doing the world a favor getting rid of the scoundrel – but for all you know, there could be a dozen men in this barn, and every one of them just itching to run off and tell what he heard."

Alex nodded. "You're right, of course. It's been too many years since I left the army behind me; I think I've gotten soft."

Rhett smiled. "I know I have," he said, cheerfully. "But in this case, having Jeb on board may not be a bad thing, especially if we end up having to track Rodney."

"Track him?" Wade said. "Why, that city boy would be lost the minute he set foot in the woods."

"Which doesn't mean he might not be stupid enough to do it," Beau said, entering the conversation for the first time. "But when I saw him this afternoon, he was headed towards Jonesboro, so my first thought would be to look for him in the boarding house there, before we got out Jeb's dogs and start trying to track him through the swamps."

"My father's dogs, actually," Jeb said, but only Alex and Young Doc heard him. The other two were looking at Beau, and their misgivings showed plainly on their faces.

"Did you talk to him?" Wade said at last. Beau nodded, his mouth tightening.

"For a few minutes," he said. "He was as unpleasant as he could be, naturally, but we can talk about that later. For now, let's deal with making sure that Rodney can't let loose his venom on Sally Jo and William."

Wade looked at Beau, then nodded sharply and turned away. Rhett studied him a minute longer, probably wondering if Scarlett was going to have problems with him, but after a moment, he, too turned away and concentrated on the immediate problem.

"The easiest place to start probably would be Jonesboro," he told Alex. "Because 'city boy' describes Rodney pretty accurately; if he's ever been in the country at all, it would be to someone's estate, where the worst problem he might encounter would be a bee sting, or mud on his shoes, not panthers, or miles and miles of swamp."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and he actually will wander off into the swamp and get lost," Jeb said.

Rhett sighed. "I doubt it, somehow. Unpleasant characters like Rodney have a way of turning up, no matter how much better we would all be if they didn't."

Alex nodded. "So there are enough of us to split up," he suggested. "Rhett, you and I and Wade could go to go into Jonesboro and look for him this afternoon," he said. "Beau and Young Doc and Jeb can head south, towards Irondale, see if he's there. I can't imagine why he would be; it's not much more than a wide spot in the road, not even a boarding house, but he might have talked someone into taking him in. If he has, it'll be known. Jeb, you have some relatives that live around there, would you be willing to go and talk to them for us? Seeing as how they're – um – a little reclusive."

Jeb laughed. "Is that what you'd call them?" he asked. "I would have called 'em a bunch of hillbilly moonshiners, myself, but it's true that they know everyone who goes in or out of Irondale, cause they keep an eye out for the sheriff or his deputies. Not that there's a big problem there; if we didn't know what a fine bunch of fellows them deputies are, we might be tempted to think that someone is on cousin Clem's payroll, and sends word to him when they plan a raid."

Alex shrugged. "But of course, we all know it can't be anything like that," he said with heavy irony. "The point is, will you take Beau and Young Doc in to see them? They'll at least warn you, before they start shooting."

Jeb shrugged. "Sure, we can go ask them. I think it's a long shot, though."

"We have to cover all the territory, though. We'll meet back here for supper at six. We can compare notes then."

* * *

Beau slogged across the swampy ground, glad that Jeb had made them put on heavy rubber boots. Otherwise, he would be soaked to the skin instead of merely hot, tired, and mosquito-bitten. They had left the tiny community of Irondale behind an hour before; why anyone would live this far back in the swamp was a mystery to him, and he said as much to Jeb. He nodded pausing in his slog through the knee-deep water and mud to uncap the canteen he had slung around his neck. After taking several swallows of water, he handed the container to Beau, who took it gratefully.

"Most of the time, I don't see it, either," he told the other two. "But I admit, sometimes I do get tired of so-called civilization, enough that I can see why men would be willing to do without the comforts of it to live the way they choose. The problems come up when someone decides they want to go back."

"Like your ma?" Young Doc said, accepting the canteen in his turn. Beau felt a moment of resentment towards him; though he lived a much more sedentary life than Beau, _he_ wasn't puffing and sweating from exertion. In fact, he looked perfectly at ease.

"Yeah. She met my pa, and wanted to marry him and live in town. And they – the whole group of them – pretty much shunned her for it. She lived for ten years after that, and she never saw her mother or her sisters again. If I hadn't met up with them by accident and proven to be useful to them a time or two, my cousins still wouldn't talk to me. The old man is dead now, but the patriarchy just swapped leaders; nothing's changed."

"So how did you get on your cousin's good side?" Beau asked, curiously.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm on their good side," Jeb said, laughing. "They just don't hate me enough to shoot me on sight anymore. And contrary to what Alex said, I doubt if they would have shot you, either."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause they consider that they owe a debt to your Mama and your Aunt Scarlett," Jeb said. Slinging the canteen back around his neck, he began to move again, headed steadily north.

"What did Aunt Scarlett do for them?" Young Doc asked.

"She and Beau's Mama took in a lot of men, after the war was over. Tara became known as a safe haven for returning soldiers. When my grandfather came back, he didn't intend to stop there; he was so close to home that even though he was really sick, he went on. He collapsed on the road, and Will Benteen carried him back to Tara where Wade and Beau's mamas nursed him back to health. He stayed around and did some chores as payback, but he never thought it was enough. So he considered that he owed them, and he passed the debt on to his family. They wouldn't do anything to hurt Wade's mama, and if Rodney was hiding among them, once they find out he's after her son, they won't let him stay. Might even be willing to hold him for ya."

Beau nodded. He didn't remember the aftermath of the war, but his mother had told him about it, and Aunt Suellen complained to this day about the gouges the soldiers' boots had left on the floors at Tara.

"The house is just over this next little hill," Jeb said.

"Should we holler or something? Let them know we're here?" Young Doc asked.

Jeb cast him an amused glance. "They've known we were here since we first left the road," he said. "I haven't made any effort to hide our presence – not that I really think I could – and this is their territory."

"Have you seen them?" Beau asked, curiously.

"No. But stop for a minute."

Obediently, they stopped.

"Now listen."

Except for the incessantly buzzing mosquitoes, Beau heard nothing. After a moment, he said so.

"That's the point," Jeb said. "There should be sounds. Birds, squirrels, all the normal animal sounds of the woods. Instead, there's nothing. Now, why do you suppose that is?"

To Beau's shock, the answer came in the form of a soft laugh that sounded close enough to make him flinch. With a thud, someone dropped from a branch overhead to land on the path only a few feet ahead of them.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your touch, Cousin," a deep voice said.

Jeb shrugged. "I don't spend as much time here as I once did," he said. "How are you and Cassie doing, Clay?"

"We're all right. Older. Cassie's married, got a young'un on the way," Clay said carelessly. Behind the dirt and the beginnings of a straggly beard, he looked about eighteen, with eyes as feral as the packs of dogs rumored to live out here in this swampland. "Who have you brought into our woods, Cuz? Outsiders?"

"This is Beau Wilkes," Jeb said, "and Young Doctor Joe. One of the Fontaines."

"I remember the Fontaines," Clay answered, but his gaze examined Beau carefully, giving only momentary attention to Young Doc. "And the Wilkes', of course. My father used to say that your mother was a lovely lady."

"Thank you," Beau said. It felt a little odd to be exchanging polite comments about his mother with this half-wild boy.

"And why're they here?"

"There's a man, an Englishman, who has come to this country lookin' to do harm to both the Wilkes and the Hamiltons," Jeb said. 'He might try to stay hidden. If he does, he might try to hide in Irondale. If you see him, will you let us know?"

Clay frowned. "We have better things to do with our time than be traipsin' up and down the road, looking for you," he said, his chin tightening aggressively.

"'Course you do," Jeb said, his eyes widening to deny ever having thought differently. "I never meant to say that you didn't. Only if you see him, could you tie a piece of this ribbon on the corner post at the crossroad with Buckley Road? That way, we'd know you got something to tell, and we'll come find you."

Clay considered. "Reckon that'd be all right," he allowed after a minute. Taking the little spool of bright red ribbon that Jeb handed him, he looked at it. "Pretty," he said.

"Give the rest of it to Cassie," Jeb said. "Tell her I said congratulations on the baby."

Clay laughed. "She'll have to hide it from Billy Bob," he said, grinning."He won't let her have it if he knows it's from you."

"Tell him it came from one of the town ladies," Jeb advised. "It's true enough; it I bought it off Mrs Ivey in the general store in town."

"Oh, that's sneaky," Clay said, his tone completely approving.

"I learned from the best," Jeb said, and Clay laughed outright.

"That you did, cuz, that you did!" Clay turned away with a chortle, his lean body disappearing in the trees within seconds. Jeb and friends began walking back the way they had come.

When the three men had almost gotten back to the road, Beau asked, "What was the deal about Cassie – you cousin, I presume – not being able to keep the ribbon if her husband knew it was from you?"

Jeb shrugged, and looked a little uncomfortable. "The people who live back here are different," he said.

"I'll agree with that," Young Doc said, smiling.

"One of the problems with small isolated communities like these is finding partners for the young ones," Jeb said. "If there aren't enough suitable mates of an age for each other, the young people tend to marry out. Like my mother did. One of the results of this is that for the boys, any girl who isn't their sister is eligible, including first cousins."

Beau shrugged. "I can't say much about cousins marrying," he admitted. "My mother and father were second cousins, after all."

"Well, first cousins are frowned on, pretty much everywhere that I know of," Jeb said. "But not here. So when I started coming around, Billy Bob thought I had my eye on Cassie, while I thought I was just being nice to my cousin. And since she was the only girl who was the right age for him, he hated me even though he didn't really care much about Cassie. One day I caught him smacking her around – his stamp of ownership, you might say – and I stopped him, which made him even madder."

"It's a hard life," Beau said. "Especially for the women."

"Yeah. The men aren't exactly noted for their gentleness. But they make excellent moonshine, and they can track better than anyone except maybe the Indians that used to live here. They sent them all west though, so my swamp-kin are probably the best you could get. That's why the sheriff calls on me when they need to hunt someone in the woods, although I've made it clear to them that I won't go in the swamp. And that's why your Uncle Rhett, Wade, and Will Benteen hired me to spend a little time this summer teaching their boys a little woods craft."

"Woods craft? Aren't they a young for that?" Beau asked.

"Oh, I wasn't teaching them to hunt," Jeb said. "More common sense kind of things. How to tell directions by the sun. How to find water. What plants are safe to eat, and which ones are poison. Which kinds of snakes are poisonous. How to tell poison ivy and poison sumac from other scrubs. Stuff that boys who are going to live in the country and play near the woods need to know."

"How come I didn't know you did that?" Young Doc asked.

"Probably 'cause you ain't got no kids yet," Jeb said. "Though that may change soon, if Susan Thompson has her way. She's got her eye on you, I think."

Young Doc laughed. "She's a pretty girl," was all he said.

"And Beau, your child is a girl, and too young. Although considering the trouble Lanie got in with poison ivy last summer, a few lessons for the girls might not be such a bad thing, either."

"That's true, although in Lanie's case, I'm not sure it would have done any good. Girl doesn't listen to anyone."

"Like her Ma, I think," Jeb said. "But I bet you'd be surprised to know which one of the boys was far and away the best at woods craft. Enough that I've already taken him out to show him how to scout for game?"

"Which one?" Beau asked, mildly interested.

"William. Little English boy. Who'd have thought, huh?"

Beau shrugged. "I guess it shows they can't breed all the sense out of them. Although in Rodney's case, they seem to have made an excellent attempt. Do you think Rhett and Wade and Alex had any better luck than we did at finding him?"

"Probably not," Jeb said. "Men like him are usually pretty cunning. They know when they're being hunted, and they go to ground."

Beau had a sinking feeling that Jeb was right, and so it proved. When they got back to Pine Bloom and compared notes with the rest of their group, all they had was a lengthy list of places where Rodney _wasn't._

* * *

**So Rodney has the good sense to hide. After what he's done, I would think so! **

** The swamp conversation may seem a little pointless, but it there is a reason for it, I promise, and we're going to get to it soon!**

**Next chapter tomorrow, I hope again. This one is late, I know, but I just had to have a nap this afternoon. **

**Remember, I love reviews!**


	12. William Finds Trouble

**William Finds Trouble**

* * *

William sulked all the way home.

His parents made him leave Pine Bloom with them, for no reason. Earlier, they had given him the okay to spend the night, but they made him leave anyway. William could see that his mom was upset, but that didn't change that they treated him like a baby, telling him what to do, changing his plans – in front of the other boys, his uncles and cousin, who were _laughing _at him. If there was one thing William couldn't stand, it was being laughed at.

Once they reached home, he stomped up to his room, confidently expecting that his mom would come after him, trying to make up for forcing him to do what he didn't want to do. She would come in his room and joke with him, trying to make him laugh. Sometimes Dad would come, too, and they would both smile at him, and when he finally gave in and smiled back, they would all go downstairs and have a piece of cake or some cookies, and a glass of milk. That's what they always did.

_Always._

Only not tonight. Tonight, when he muttered that he was going to bed, his parents both looked relieved. Mom didn't even tell him to brush his teeth. He clumped up the steps loudly – usually just that was enough to make his mother ask what was the matter – but neither of them seemed to notice. Dad took Mom's hand and they went into the sitting room, closing the door behind them before William was even halfway up the stairs. Even when he slammed the door to his room, no one came. He sat on the window seat in the dark room, looking out the window as the moon rose.

And no one came.

William wondered if that was how things were going to be, now that a new baby was coming. He put his feet up on the window sill and looked out at the lawn, bathed in silvery moonlight. Shadows that you never noticed during the day seemed to dance at the edge of the wood, and William thought it would be a little scary out there. Not to him, of course, because he had trained. Jeb had taken all the boys out to the edge of the woods once at night, to show them how to find their way. He had been the best at it; Jeb had told him so.

That made William feel proud and brave.

But now he just felt sad and empty. Mom and Dad didn't come. Maybe that was how it would be from now on? Maybe they wouldn't care about him anymore, since they would have a new baby soon?

Could William could do something to get their attention back? Something really bad; then they'd _have_ to notice him, even if it was only to yell at him.

William sat in the window seat for hours, thinking about it. He didn't really want to be bad; he didn't like how it felt, when Mom and Dad told him how disappointed they were. But even that was better than the hot, empty feeling inside of him now.. Still, he hesitated, staring at the porch roof outside his window, and the oak tree that grew so close that its branches sometimes scratched at the shingles, when the wind blew hard. Mom didn't know it, but he had climbed down it once. Just to prove he could.

When he heard his parents on the stairs, his heart soared. They were late, but better late than never. Maybe he wouldn't even be mad at them -

But then their footsteps went by, just walked past his room like he didn't even exist.

William waited some more, hearing their low voices in their bedroom. Then there was silence. When it had been dark and quiet for at least an hour, his hand, almost of its own volition, reached for the latch on the window.

Climbing down the tree was harder at night. The moonlight tricked his eyes, causing things to look closer than they really were, and several times on the way down, he had remembered what Jeb had taught them about climbing trees. 'Make sure of your hand holds' was one thing, and William slipped carefully from branch to branch, never overbalancing, always testing to make sure the limbs would bear his weight before he committed himself to moving. The backpack he wore – the same one he had packed to spend the night at his grandparent's – kept wanting to get caught by scratchy little branches; finally, William shrugged it off and let it fall to the ground below.

He made better progress after that, and in a few minutes, he stood safely on the ground, shrugging into his back-pack, surveying the terrain. That was what Jeb called it; he said that accidents were less likely to happen to a man who knew where he intended to go, and what path he would take to get there.

The road was easiest, of course. If he took the road, he could be at Grandma Scarlett's in an hour, maybe less. In the moonlight, the road gleamed ahead of him, open and easy; but tonight, William was not in the mood for open and easy. He wanted difficult and dangerous, and that meant he had to go by the secret path through the woods.

Unlike the road, the woods-path didn't follow the river. It cut straight across, reducing the distance between his house and Pine Bloom by as much as a third. William knew the path well; he and Gene and Gerry often took it between their houses on those sunny summer days before school started up again. But it wasn't a bright summer day now, it was dark, and the wind that whistled low in the tree branches had just enough of a chill to make him wish that he had changed into a long-sleeved shirt.

William took a step towards the woods, then hesitated, glancing back towards his house. He thought longingly of his own warm bed; then he remembered how no one had come to tuck him in. He was too old to be treated like a baby, of course, but what kind of parents didn't even try? They _deserved _to worry about him!

Squaring his shoulders, the six-year-old ran across the lawn, and entered the woods at the entrance to the secret path.

At first, he continued to run. Soon however, his steps slowed, not because he got tired, but because he remembered something else Jeb had told them – that getting lost was easier at night, because moonlight, even when the moon was full like tonight, was tricky. It made landmarks, even for familiar places, look different. So a smart woodsman took it slow... just like he had while climbing down the tree. In fact, most of what Jeb had told him could probably be condensed into three things – take it slow and easy, pay attention to the terrain, and think before you act. So William stopped for a moment, looking around, catching his breath and looking for landmarks.

This turned out to be exactly the wrong move. But then, Jeb's lessons on wood craft had been geared toward allowing little boys to play near the forest without getting seriously hurt, not on what they should do if someone was chasing them through the woods.

As soon as his heart quit thumping so hard, William heard the noise behind him, but by then it was too late. Even as he turned, something hit him hard on the head; he knew no more.

* * *

Sally Jo must have known something was wrong the moment she opened her eyes, but Wade first realized it when she shook him awake.

"Wade," she said, then louder. "Wade! Where's William?"

Wade sat up, yawning. "In bed, I guess," he answered.

"No! No, William never sleeps this late. Not since he was an infant. We need to check on him!"

Part of Wade thought she was just upset because of what happened yesterday. It had taken him forever to calm her down enough that she could sleep, which is why they had overslept themselves. But he also knew that sleeping in was not at all like William, so he threw back the covers and got up, following his wife down the hall.

Even as she pushed open the door, he knew. The cool air from the open window hit him, even though he knew that William never left the window open at night because he didn't like the moisture Quickly he stepped close to Sally Jo.

She grasped the door jamb so tightly that her fingers whitened. "William," she whispered, staring at the empty bed. "Wade, he's gone."

Wade stared at the made bed. "I see that," he said, his voice grim.

In the end, he made her go in the bedroom to get changed while he systematically searched the rest of the house. He knew he wouldn't find the boy, though. The bed hadn't been slept in, and that meant this was something more than William going down to get something to eat while his parents were sleeping. When he finished with the rest of the house, Wade returned to William's room and looked around. He wanted to do this without his wife present, because what he looked for were signs to show whether William had left willingly, or been taken. Signs of a struggle. Or blood. _That would definitely be a sign,_ Wade thought.

He found no blood, which relieved his mind, but he also saw the undisturbed dew on the window sill, which meant Will had been gone for several hours, at least. Another thought came to him, and he looked around for the back-pack that William had gotten for his last birthday. He didn't see it anywhere. He opened the closet door and glanced inside, though it would be most unlike William to put up his own things without strong encouragement from his mother.

No back-pack.

He entered the bedroom. "Sally Jo, did Will bring his back-pack home with him?" he asked as he began to dress with quick, economical movements.

Sally Jo looked up, her face gaunt with tension. "His back-pack? Uh – yes, now that you mention it. I remember noticing it as he went up the stairs last night. Why?"

"It's gone," Wade said.

Sally Jo looked confused. "Someone stole his back-pack? But why -"

"I don't think anyone stole it," Wade said. Going to Sally Jo, he cupped her face in his hands. "Listen to what I'm thinking, hon. Will's bed hasn't been slept in, and he hadn't undressed, because there are no dirty clothes, either on the floor or in the hamper. His back-pack is gone, and the amount of dew on the window sill tells me that he's been gone for hours. I don't think anyone took him; I think he was mad at us and took off."

Horrified, Sally Jo said, "You think he ran away?

"No – not really ran away. I think he was mad at us and decided to go back to his grandmother's house and visit his uncles in secret. He probably planned to be back here before we woke up this morning. I bet he just overslept, and when we get to Mama's we'll find him safe and sound – though not for long, once I get hold of him."

Sally Jo latched on to his explanation, and her face filled with hope. "Oh, Wade, do you really think so?" she asked, a smile beginning to curve her lips.

He bent and kissed her quickly. "I do. But let's finish dressing and drive to Pine Bloom; I know you'll worry till you find out for sure."

William wished he was as certain of his facts as he tried to pretend to be. But the later it became, the more doubt crept in, mostly because Mama would know how worried Sally Jo would be. Wade couldn't bring himself to believe that she wouldn't have sent someone to let them know that William was safe, no matter what else was going on.

As he turned into the gate at Pine Bloom, his heart sank. Both buggies sat out front, and Mama and Ella could be seen, dressed in church finery, shepherding all seven children toward them. They were going to church, and that meant that William almost certainly was not there.

"Mama Scarlett, is William here?" Sally Jo called, her voice frantic. She realized this, too.

Scarlett turned and looked at them, surprised. "Why, no dear," she said. "You took him home with you last night."

Wade put his arm around Sally Jo. "At some point last night, he slipped out of the house," he told his mother. "We hoped he came here."

Scarlett turned to her two younger sons. "Have either of you two seen him" she asked sternly. "No fibbing now; this is too important."

The two boys shook their heads solemnly, looking at their mother with wide eyes. "No, Mama," Gene said, looking surprisingly like his mother with his black hair and big green eyes. "The last I saw of William was when he left last night, and I don't know anything about him coming back. The only thing I do know is that he was mad because he had to go when he thought he was going to get to stay."

The rest of the children were nodding. Wade sighed heavily. "Mama, is Jeb here?" he asked his mother. "He said he was going to stay so we could get an early start this morning."

"As far as I know, he stayed," Scarlett said. "Children, go get changed out of your church clothes. We will not be going today."

The boys cheered and ran inside; it was only under duress that they had gotten dressed up, anyway. Scarlett stepped down from the porch and crossed the gravelled driveway. She gently helped Sally Jo down from the buggy and led her towards the house. "Come and sit down, dear. Let Wade go and talk to the men about what they need to do to find William, and you come in the house and rest."

Wade kissed Sally Jo gently. "I'll send word to you when we have a plan," he told her gently. "Go with Mama, and try to rest."

She nodded and followed his mother. She seemed almost numb, and Wade could only hope that his mother would be able to persuade her to stay calm – for the sake of the child she carried. He turned away grimly and went to talk to Jeb.

* * *

**Oh, this is bad. Poor William. Poor Sally Jo.  
**

**Review and let me know what you think!**


	13. Jeb Goes Hunting

**Jeb Goes Hunting**

* * *

Wade explained the situation to Jeb, who nodded and said, "Before we get every one and his brother traipsin' around, I want to look at his room, see if I can pick up something you didn't. I also want to talk to one of your younger brothers if I can."

"Why?"

"Because the shortest way between your house and Pine Bloom isn't by road; it's cutting through the woods. William was very interested in the woods craft I was teaching the boys, so I'd be willing to bet they have a trail they follow to go between the two places. I could find it on my own but if Gene or Gerry can tell me where they go in the woods, it'll save some time."

Wade nodded, and went to get one of his brothers. In less than five minutes, he was back with Gerry, the elder of the two boys. Gerry looked at Jeb questioningly through dark eyes that made him strongly resemble his father. Jeb spoke to him in a calm and matter-of-fact voice.

"You know that William is missing, right?"

Gerry nodded. "Yes, but I don't know where he's gone, honest I don't. And I don't think Gene does, either."

Jeb nodded. "I believe you. The problem is, there's a bad man that's been causing problems for your oldest brother in the past few days. We think it's possible that William slipped out to come and see you, and never got here because of the bad man. Do you understand?"

Gerry nodded. "Do you think he's hurt? William, I mean?"

"I hope not, but the sooner we find him, the sooner we can fix things, if he is. Which is why I need you to show me your secret path through the woods, the one that cuts between your place and William's."

Gerry's eyes got wide. He was only five. "How do you know about that?" he asked. "It's supposed to be secret."

"It wasn't all that long ago that I was a boy and my brothers and I had secret paths of our own," Jeb said. "William's life may be in danger; at very least, he has Sally Jo worried sick. We need to find him, so we need you to help by showing us where the path is."

Gerry nodded. "Okay," he said. "We start over there, by the spring house." He gestured to the rear of the barn.

"All right, wait a minute." Jeb put a hand on Gerry's shoulder.

"Wade, I want you to saddle a horse, and go back to your house by the road. A horse, instead of the buggy, because it'll let you see the road better. Look for any sign that William has been there. Tracks in the dirt – particularly if there are muddy places, boys have a fondness for mud. Also check the side of the road, looking for any broken branches or grass that's been trodden down. Signs that someone has gone into or out of the woods, or any signs of a scuffle. I'll meet you back at your house in an hour. If you get there 'fore I do, leave his room like it was when you found it, and don't go messing around the woods. If we end up needing to bring dogs in, the fewer scents around to distract them, the better."

Wade nodded, and Jeb turned to Gerry.

"Okay, now show me."

* * *

When Wade arrived back at the house, Jeb wasn't there yet. Wade made himself a sandwich from the ham and bread in the pantry, forcing himself to finish it with a glass of milk. He wasn't in the least hungry, but he knew that he should eat, to keep up his strength. It was going to be a long day.

He sat on the porch railing and waited about fifteen minutes until Jeb showed up. Since he had seen no sign of the boy on the road, not even a footprint, he had to hope Jeb had better luck in the woods.

Wade had hoped that Jeb would be leading a repentant William, or even carrying an injured one, but there was no sign of the boy with him, and Wade's heart sank. Jeb went to the edge of the porch and looked up at the oak tree that grew at the corner by William's window. When he finally walked over to where Wade leaned against the railing, he was frowning.

"The open window up there is the boy's?" he asked.

Wade nodded. "Yeah, that's where he sleeps."

"Okay. In a minute I'll want to see his room, but that's just to see if there's any extra information that I can get from it. I have a pretty good idea what happened, though, just from what I've already picked up here and in the woods."

"All right, tell me,"Wade said.

"You're right that the boy left on his own. Came out his window, down the tree. He had his back-pack, just like you thought – you can see a scuffed place in the dirt where he dropped it down ahead of him. It's good that he has it, though."

"Why's that?" Wade asked.

"Because it shows he was thinking. He was mad, I figure, mad enough to want to run off for a while, but he wasn't mad enough to forget the first lesson I taught about being in the woods."

"What's that?"

"'Be prepared.' If he has his back-pack, he has water – there's a canteen goes with it – and if I know anything about little boys, he had something to eat, too. Might not be but a leftover biscuit and some honey, but _something_. He had a compass with it, too, and a pocket knife – more a toy than a real knife, but he could blaze a trail with it if he had to. All that's the good news."

"And the bad news?" Wade asked.

"He went in the woods over there, where the trail came out. At first – for two hundred feet or so – he was running. Then he slowed down and stood for a minute – getting his bearings, I think. That little fellow really is going to make a good woodsman someday. He remembered everything I told him about scouting the terrain, and looking for landmarks, even though he was mad, and probably a little scared, too, at being in the woods alone at night."

William couldn't help feel a little pride at the genuine admiration in Jeb's voice. "Then what?" he made himself ask.

"That's the bad news. Someone followed him into the woods; when he stopped, they caught up to him. Knocked him down, then picked him up and carried him deeper into the woods. That's what took me so long; I followed the trail to see if I could get an idea where he could be going."

"Did you find anything?"

Jeb looked grim. "Nothing good." He met Wade's eyes. "You – uh – you probably don't want to tell the missus this, not till we're sure, but -" He hesitated, not wanting to say it.

"What?" Wade asked. Dread curled in his stomach, and the sandwich he had eaten earlier felt like a leaden ball in the bottom of his belly.

"Well, whoever has him – and I think it's probably pretty safe to guess it's your ole pal Rodney – set him down several times. So the kidnapper could rest, I guess. But I didn't see any sign that the boy moved. Not so much as a twitch. So either he was hit hard enough to knock him out, or -"

"Or he's dead," Wade finished grimly.

Jeb nodded. "No way to tell which, except to find him," he said.

"I think you're right, though. No sense in telling Sally Jo until we know, one way or another."

"I lost track of him when he crossed the creek," Jeb said. The bank on the other side is rock, and it had already dried off enough that there weren't any prints. So the thing for you to do now would probably be to gather as many men as you can to comb the woods, while I go find my father and see if he will let me borrow his dogs."

"Do you think he won't?" Wade asked, surprised.

Jeb shrugged awkwardly. "My father's a good enough man," he said. "Except when he's drunk, or nursin' a hangover, and this time on a Sunday morning, he's almost certain to be doing one or the other. It can make him a little cantankerous."

"Offer him money, if you think it will help," Wade said.

Jeb flashed him a quick smile. "Money always helps," he said. "You know, there really isn't any reason for this Rodney to want William dead."

"Unless he killed him when he first came upon him, trying to knock him out," Wade said bitterly. "Or just for sheer spite."

"Well, if he really is the type to kill for spite, you'd be better off following Alex's advice and killing him outright," Jeb said. "Letting him live is like letting a mouse stay in your house. He might stay hidden for a long time, but sooner or late, he'll pop out at you. And surprise will work in his favor, not yours. Better to get rid of him from the start."

Wade nodded. "I know. I knew it when Alex suggested it. It's just that I hate the idea of killing people. Once you start that, where does it end? Even with slime like Rodney."

Jeb shrugged. "I was raised with a practical approach," he said. "You protect your own, no matter what." He climbed the steps to the porch. "Now, why don't you show me the boy's room before we go?"

* * *

When he got back to Pine Bloom, Rhett was waiting along with Alex, their faces anxious. Wade went through Jeb's findings, including the possibility that William might be dead. "Jeb wants us to get together some men to search the woods," he finished. "He went to get his father's dogs, if he can."

Alex nodded. "His father's got the best tracking dogs in the county. Hell, maybe the state. He raised those young'uns of his mostly on what he could hunt with his dogs, and though I've heard a few bad things about the man, I never heard tell that his boys went hungry."

Wade nodded. "We'll just have to hope," he said, and the rage building inside him ever since he found out Rodney had hurt Sally Jo grew stronger. In some ways, he thought Jeb and Alex were right; Rodney really did deserve to die. Wade shrank from it as an unpleasant task, but he began to think it really might be his duty.

"We can get the builders to do the searching," Alex said. "Most of them aren't local, which will make things harder, but we'll pair them up. Make it so that the men who do know the area are working in sight of the men who don't so that no one will get lost, or wander into a patch of quicksand or end up in the swamp for Jeb's relatives to find."

"That last one is probably more dangerous," said Beau. He had come up behind them without Wade hearing him, and now he put a hand on Wade's shoulder. It was a simple, brotherly gesture, but Wade understood everything it conveyed with no words, and he smiled gratefully at the cousin who had been his best friend since earliest childhood. "Aunt Scarlett says to come up to the house. She has lunch food ready – sandwiches mostly, and potato salad, quick stuff – and she figures you all will need to eat before you go."

Wade nodded. "I had a quick bite at home," he said. "Alex, I'll go get the builders while everyone eats. Then we can be read to go as soon as they get here."

The builders, a collection of young and brawny men, expressed their willingness to help even before Wade assured them that they would receive a day's wages for it. Alex and Beau carefully vetted the men they hired, to make sure it was safe to have them near the women and girls of their families.

Wade loaded them in the wagon he had driven to the construction site and took them back to Pine Bloom. By the time they got there, Jeb was back; he returned with his father, three blue-tick hounds, and (to the dismay of everyone) the sheriff. Aware of the problems between the sheriff and the Butlers, Jeb could only shrug. "The sheriff was there with Dad when I got to his house," he told Rhett. "They drink together sometimes. But we needed the dogs, so..."

Rhett's mouth had thinned, but he nodded. "I understand," he said. "And you're right; getting the dogs here was the most important thing." He moved forward and greeted the sheriff, politely if not cordially, and proceeded to ignore him while he divided the men up into squads and assigned search locations.

"You can't just go on other people's land like you're the king of the mountain," the sheriff protested. The comment pretty well answered any question of whether he was there to help or hinder.

Rhett sighed. "This afternoon, we're going to be searching land that is either ours -" he indicated Beau and Alex, "- or where we have the permission of the owners. That includes about thirty square miles. If we thoroughly search that and come up with nothing, or if the dogs lead us on to land that we don't own, then we'll seek permission from the owners of the land we want to search. Given the circumstances, I don't imagine there are many people who would refuse, particularly since the corn harvest is mostly done, and we wouldn't need more than a cursory search of the cotton fields."

The sheriff glared at him, but nodded reluctantly. "Make sure you do ask permission," he said.

Jeb's father asked Wade if he had a piece of clothing that William normally wore. "Back at the house," he answered. "I noticed that his cap was still on the bedpost where he hangs it That should do."

"All right. Me and the boy -" he indicated Jeb, "- will take the dogs and see what we can find. If we get a good trail, it should take us right to the lad, but that doesn't always happen. We'll do the best we can, and if we find him, we'll bring him back."

"Do you need any of us to go with you?" Wade asked.

"Nah. These Blues work best for me and the boy by ourselves. It's what they're used to. More people would just upset 'em."

"All right. We've worked out a grid pattern for the search, so we'll get started as soon as you're away with the dogs -"

"We can stop by your house and get Will's cap, if you want," Jeb offered. "No need to go with us; I know which room is his, and it would be best to start the search there, anyway, since that's where the boy was taken from."

Wade nodded. "All right. We're going to be concentrating our search in that direction first, because I figure you know what you're talking about when you say he was kidnapped. But there's no telling _where_ they took him, so I want to search, as well as use the dogs. Good as they are, they might not find him."

Wade watched them walk away. "Good luck," he called, as they mounted their horses and called the dogs to follow. Jeb waved; as Wade turned back to planning the details of the search, he heard the baying of the hounds fade with distance.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is so late. I actually had it ready this morning, but I wanted to wait until I had the next chapter written to make sure some of the details lined up properly. Hard to change things if you've already posted the chapter. Now that I believe I have it right, here you are!  
**

**Thank you for reading. As always, I love to get reviews, so if you have any thoughts on what you like, or don't like, please send them. I try to answer every review.**


	14. William Wakes Up

**William Wakes Up**

* * *

Wade wiped his forehead; the afternoon had grown hot, and the damp, not-quite-swampy woods didn't make things any more agreeable. He wasn't the only one; to his left and right, he could see other men, part of the group of searchers, and they all looked just as uncomfortable as he did.

"You okay?"

That was Rhett. He was riding Gigi up and down the line of men, making sure no one got lost, or out of place. He also had a big water-skin, with which he refilled their canteens with depressing regularity.

"I'm all right," Wade answered. They had been searching for hours now, and had not yet found the boy, or any sign of him. "I just – I had hoped we would have found him by now."

Rhett nodded. "The longer we go on, the more it seems we have to assume that Rodney really did grab him."

"Yeah. I wish I had told him what was going on last night. If I had, we wouldn't be in this position. I was trying to protect him by not telling him about Rodney, but instead I let him fall right into his hands. Damn!"

Rhett dismounted and put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, son. You can't second guess yourself like that. It will make you crazy, and won't solve any of your problems."

"I know," Wade muttered. "It's just – he's my son, in every way that matters. I've been his father since before he was big enough to walk on his own. I feel like I've failed him -"

"He'll forgive you," Rhett said gently.

"I'm not so sure," Wade said. "If he feels like I deserted him, he might not."

"I think he will," Rhett said, drawing a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. "After all, _you_ forgave _me_."

Wade looked at him, startled. "That's not the same thing," he protested.

"No, it's worse, 'cause I had a choice, but I was so blinded by my pain and anger that I didn't even see what I was doing to you and Ella. You ended up having to take on adult responsibilities when you were far too young for them, because the adults in your life let you down. But you've been there for William, and when we get him back, and we will get him back, he'll understand that. If not at first, then eventually."

Wade smiled at his stepfather. He was twenty-nine years old now, far too old to believe that Uncle Rhett could fix everything, but some part of him was obscurely comforted, anyway. At least Uncle Rhett was trying to fix it. "Thanks," he said, meeting Rhett's eyes momentarily.

"On to practical matters," Rhett said. "We're going to be at the boundary with Tara in an hour. There's an old road that goes through there – mostly overgrown nowadays, but Will says you can get a wagon down it – and he's going to bring a wagon and meet us there. Your Aunt Suellen has fixed a meal for the searchers, and we'll have to call it a day -"

"But it's still early," Wade protested.  
"I know it is, but if we don't stop there, we'll be out in the woods after dark, and half of these men not only don't know these woods, they don't know _any_ woods. If we try to keep on in the dark, we're going to have men injured and lost, and we'll spend more time trying to patch them up and find them than we will searching. No, if we still haven't found him when we get onto Tara's land, it will be time to call it quits for the night."  
"I think I'll continue on for an hour or two more," Wade said. "You can take the men to Aunt Suellen's and thank her for me, can't you?"

Rhett hesitated. "OK, but I want you back at Tara by sunset. If I have to come looking for you, you'll be in serious trouble."

Wade smiled weakly. "Deal," he agreed.

Wade pushed through a last tangle of briars, knowing that he was out of time. The sunset had already painted the sky a lurid orange; if he waited any longer, he would be walking back to Tara in the dark. Ahead was the river, and the cluster of tiny shanties where the poorest occupants of the county lived. Turning, he headed back west, thinking of the look that would be on Sally Jo's face when they returned without William. She wouldn't blame him, Wade was sure, but in a way that only made things worse. He blamed himself. Sally Jo and William were his family, and he was supposed to protect them, and look what he had allowed to happen. William missing, Sally Jo devastated with grief... a man who couldn't take better care of his wife and son than that didn't deserve to have them.

The sunset light was just fading from the sky when Wade arrived back at Tara. Rhett was waiting outside for him, his face dark with worry. "I was just about to go looking for you, you damned idiot," he growled.

Wade smiled at him wearily. "I just couldn't make myself stop until the last minute," he said. "I kept thinking, just one more hill, then I'll stop... but I didn't find him, anyway."

Rhett nodded. It didn't take a genius to tell that Wade blamed himself, and Rhett knew that his son was at the breaking point. "Let's get you something to eat," he said. "And don't tell me you're not hungry; you have to keep up your strength to support Sally Jo. She needs you."

It worked. After a moment, Wade allowed Rhett to lead him into the kitchen of Tara and give him a plate of food. Wade was half-halfheartedly eating some beans and cornbread when the sheriff poked his head inside the door of the kitchen. "So you're back, are you?" he asked. "After worrying your poor aunt to pieces. You should be ashamed, causing so much ruckus on top of what's already going on."

Seeing the fury flare in Wade's eyes, Rhett stepped neatly between him and the sheriff, When he spoke, his voice was harsh. "Sheriff, my sister-in-law is not the person most directly affected by this tragedy. My son chose to stay out for an extra hour looking for his son, a decision that most people would find laudable. If you don't, why don't you just go somewhere else? It's not as if anyone invited you to stick your nose into this, anyway."

"You don't own Tara. You can't kick me out," the sheriff protested.

Rhett looked at him, his eyes narrowed and deadly. "If you don't know that my wife owns two-thirds of Tara, then you're a lot less intelligent than I gave you credit for," Rhett said. "Which isn't saying much. But right now, you're being requested to leave a home where I have legal authority, and you have no business. Go. Now."

The quietness of his tone, more compelling than a shout, convinced the sheriff to do what Rhett said. He jammed his hat on his head, and turned away, muttering under his breath about some people thinking they were above the law.

"I regret that I didn't try to get the commissioners to vote him out," Rhett said, looking down at Wade. "I thought that he was better than no sheriff at all, but I think that I was probably wrong about that."

"I agree," Wade said. "Man's an ass, but you know I'm feeling pretty on edge when I allow his stupidity to goad me like that. If you hadn't stepped between us, I'd have hit him."

"I know," Rhett answered, smiling at his oldest son. "That's why I stepped in front of you. He's an ass, but he's still the sheriff, and I'm damned if I want to spend the evening explaining to your wife and mine why you're in jail."

"I suppose that would have been difficult for you," Wade agreed. He met Rhett's eyes, and suddenly, both of them were laughing. Suellen came in the kitchen and stared at them as if they had lost their senses. The laughter faded as quickly as it came, but Wade felt better for it.

* * *

William awoke to darkness, and voices.

At first he didn't understand what was going on. His head ached abominably, and he was lying somewhere hard and lumpy. He started to call for his mother, but discovered that his throat was too parched to produce speech. Only a tiny rasp emerged.

This may have been a good thing. As he gathered himself for another attempt, licking his cracked lips with a tongue that felt like the sandpaper Uncle Beau used in his carpentry shop, the words the voices were saying began to make sense.

"I said you could stay here, while you made trouble fer them stuck-up Butlers and their kin," the woman's voice said. "But I didn't say nothing about kidnapping. You can go to prison fer that, an' I ain't about to go to jail fer the likes you. Get him out, you hear me! When I get back in the mornin', I want him gone."

"But Emmielou, sweetness," a masculine voice pleaded. Even William could tell the difference between the two; the woman sounded like one of the crackers who lived down by the river, and the man sounded like Aunt Ella's husband, all polite and English. "If we get a ransom for him, we'll be set for life. No more money worries, ever."

"I said no! Get him out of here, Rodney, or I'll send for the sheriff myself, and tell him that the first I knew of your intentions was when you brought the brat here. Which is true enough."

The man – Rodney? - continued to plead, but the woman was adamant. Finally, they reached a compromise. There was an empty shanty that sat away from the road, well away from the others. The woman – Emmielou – would take the man there now, and show him where it was. Then, when everyone was sleeping, Rodney could come back and get the boy and take him there. Then he would be out of Emmielou's house, and if Rodney got caught, she could deny she knew anything about it. The door banged shut behind them, and silence fell, along with the darkness.

It occurred to William, for the first time, that he was the brat they were talking about. Someone, he guessed it was Rodney, had hit him over the head and brought him here, intending to hold him for ransom. The woman didn't want to do it, not because she thought it wrong, but because she thought it dangerous. William's head was muzzy, and he had trouble getting his thoughts lined up properly, but it seemed to him that it would be good if he were gone by the time they got back. He wondered how long they would take, and hoped that it would be long enough.

The first problem was getting his hands loose. They had tied him with a rough piece of rope, but the cheap material came apart easily when he began to pick at it, and was not hard for William to work out of. When his hands were free, he fumbled in his back-pack and brought out his canteen. Nothing had ever been as refreshing as that first drink of water, even though it was lukewarm and stale. After downing several gulps, he reached into the back-pack again and pulled out the little pack of food he had put there to share with his cousins and uncles during their sleepover. There was some dried fruit, grapes and apples and plums, and he chewed a mouthful, considering his options.

Untying his feet was even easier than his hands. Refreshed by food and drink, he simply stood up and stepped out of the loose bonds. Replacing the items, including the rope that they had tied with, in his back-pack, he opened the door a sliver and looked out. Moonlight gleamed on the grass, reminding him of the view out his window earlier, and William felt a renewed sense of urgency. If he hurried, perhaps he could get home before Mom and Dad noticed that he was missing.

Slipping out of the shanty, William saw the road, a muddy strip of land that curved towards the forest, and he followed it as far as the first trees. Then he slipped into the shadow of the forest, but not so far in that he could not see the road, and he ran parallel to the track, hoping that it would take him somewhere familiar eventually.

In this, he was out of luck. The track just kept getting smaller, and soon it was little more than a trail. William realized he was going the wrong way, but he thought it would be dangerous to try to get back through the shanty-town tonight, when the people who had kidnapped him would probably be out, looking for him. So he found a relatively dry place next to a hollow tree, and leaned back to rest for a little while, until he thought it would be safe to go on.

The next thing he knew, it was early morning; the sun was shining in his eyes, and someone was poking him.

"Well, well, what have we heah?" a female voice asked mockingly. "Yesterday, cousin Jeb sent word to tell us that the Butler family was missin' something, so's we could keep an eye out for it. Seems to me, I might have found just the thing that they're missin'. William, is it?"

William sat up, blinking in the bright light. "Um – yes, I'm William," he said cautiously. The person who had spoken stood between him and the rising sun, so that he could see them only in silhouette. All William could tell was that the voice sounded female. "Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Jeb's cousin, Cassie," she said, moving so that he could see her. She had a narrow fox-face, with a sharply pointed chin, and alert eyes. "Are you all right, boy? There's dried blood all over the back of your head,"

"Is there?" he asked, raising his fingers to touch. He could feel the thick crust, and under it, a sensitive lump. "Someone hit me over the head and brought me here," he said; he still felt a little dizzy, all the more when he tilted his head back to look at her.

As if sensing that, she crouched down. "They just dropped you off here by the side of the path?" she asked, her voice neutral.

"No. They left me tied up in a cabin – back that way." He pointed back the way he came – or at least, the way he thought he came. His head spun, making it difficult to tell things like directions.

"And you got out on your own?" she asked. "Not bad, for a farm boy."

"Jeb's been giving me lessons on woodcraft," he said. "He says I picked it up really fast."

"Well, he's a good one to teach you. Jeb's almost as good as one of us. Not quite, of course, because he was raised in town. But almost."

William didn't answer. Though he knew it wasn't polite, he closed his eyes – the bright sunlight was really hurting them – and then he guessed he went to sleep for awhile, because when he woke up, he was in a different place, listening to voices again.

"We need to get him back to his people," Cassie was saying. William recognized her voice.

"We will," a deeper voice answered. "Tomorrow, after we've gotten rid of the 'shine so the sheriff can't find it if he takes a notion to search."

"But we could just take him and drop him off. No need to say where we found him."

"And when the boy goes blabbing about being in one of them shanties, you think they won't know where to go lookin'? Naw, we'll get the 'shine out to the buyers first, just so everthing 'pears to be fine if the sheriff comes lookin'."

"Was a stupid idea to store the stuff so close to the squatters, anyway," Cassie said sulkily.

"You callin' me stupid, woman?" The man's voice increased to a roar, and Cassie laughed.

"Course I am. You're about as dumb as they come, Billy Bob, and this is where it gets us. Havin' to worry about the sheriff, when we never have had to before, jes cause you're to lazy to carry the shine to the cave down by the river where we always hid it."

"Shut yer mouth, woman! You ain't got no call to talk to me like that -"

"Oh, go away, Billy Bob. Yer disgustin'!"

A door slammed, and there was silence.

Cassie entered the area he was in through the curtain across the doorway.

"Boy? You awake?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely.

"Ma'am, yet! Your mama taught you manners, right and proper, didn't she?"

"Yes, ma'am. She says it's respectful," he answered.

"Well, my mama would probably have taught me manners, and how to talk good, too. If'n she hadn't died birthin' me. Not my fault I never had no mama."

"No ma'am," he agreed politely.

"Anyway, boy, the thing is, we gotta get you out of here before Billy Bob comes back. Can you walk?"

"I think so." William stood up, and discovered that though his head still hurt, he felt better than he had awhile ago.

"I need to get you away from Billy Bob before he starts thinking about the ransom money that city fella was planning on getting for you, and how it might not be such a bad idea to try to get it himself. Damn fool idea, but he is a fool, 'n' greedy along with it. So we're going to hide you till it gets dark and I can get Jeb to come fetch you."

"All right," William said, following her into the other room. "Where am I going to hide?"

She laughed, a sweet, musical sound that made him want to smile, hearing it.

"Why, in the caves, of course. The empty caves, where the moonshine ought to be, if Billy Bob weren't so danged lazy!"

* * *

**Well, William is awake, at least, and though he seems a little worse for wear, we can hope he'll be all right in the end.**

**Cassie, who seems a nice enough type of girl, is going to hide him until it is safe for Jeb to come get him.**

**Everything looks like it's getting better...but appearances can be deceptive.**

**Next chapter hopefully tomorrow (Sunday).**

**Please review. I love to get comments, and sometimes they give me new ideas!**


	15. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

**Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch...**

* * *

"Grandmother?"

Scarlett looked up from where she was slicing ham for sandwiches; the searchers would need sustenance, and in fairness, relying on Sue to provide for so many people with no warning wasn't reasonable. Scarlett would feel much more charitably toward Sue if only she didn't _whine _so, but this time she had a point. So Scarlett was slicing mountains of ham to send over, and Sally Fontaine had spent the day at Mimosa making gallons of potato salad for the same purpose. In the morning, if the search went on, all of this would go to Tara along with Dilcey and Prissy and two of the maids.

"Yes, Lorena?" she asked.

Lorena's face flushed red. "Would you mind calling me Lori?" she asked, in her very proper English voice. "Lanie started calling me that, and I quite like it."

"All right," Scarlett said. "Now, what's on your mind, Lori?"

"Do you think William will be all right?" Lori asked hesitantly.

Scarlett sighed, then set the knife down and took Lori by the hand. "I certainly hope that he will be," she said. "We aren't given sure knowledge of the future, of course, but I don't believe that anyone has a reason to want to hurt him. If he's just lost, we will find him, and if someone has taken him, they will ask for a ransom, and we will pay whatever it takes to get him back. Either way, no one has any reason to wish him harm."

Lori nodded solemnly. "I feel bad for Aunt Sally Jo," she said.

"So do I, Precious. I know how she's feeling, and it's the worst fear in the world, the fear that something bad has happened to one of your children.

"Like what happened to Aunt Bonnie." Lori's green eyes filled with quick tears. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Grandma Scarlett."

"Why, thank you, Baby," Scarlett gave the girl a brief hug. "Now, why don't you go play with the other girls, and let me slice this ham to feed the searchers?"

"All right, Grandma Scarlett!" Lori hugged her back, and Scarlett stroked her hair, thinking wistfully of Bonnie. Lori looked a lot like her, except for the color of her eyes. Releasing the girl, Scarlett put the past back in its proper place; picking up her knife, she turned her attention back to the ham.

* * *

Sally Jo looked terrible, pale and worried, and Ella was very concerned for her. "Do you blame Wade for this?" Ella asked abruptly.

Sally Jo looked up. "No of course not," she said in surprise. "Why on earth would I? It's not his fault; if anyone's it's mine. I always knew that there was a chance that what Geoffrey did could come out, and that if it did, it would cause a horrible scandal. I hoped that here, so far away, no one would know, but I also knew it was possible that someone would find out. I don't know how Rodney did, though. Geoffrey was never close to him, but who else could have told him?"

Ella frowned. "I have an idea," she said slowly. "I don't like to talk badly about anyone, but...in the last few weeks, I've seen Diantha and Rodney talking several times. If Diantha found out somehow, she could have told Rodney."

"Why? So he could threaten and make demand of us?"

"Maybe. Diantha has always wanted to marry Rodney," Ella mused. "So she could have passed Rodney secrets, hoping that he would make enough money to take her as his wife. I think she's barking up the wrong tree, myself; Rodney will never marry her as long as he has enough money to get by without a wife. You and I may think that they're two of a kind, but when he can afford it, Rodney enjoys the company of women who are very attractive, in a flashy way."

"But he might have convinced Diantha he would," Sally Jo said. "I remember her from when we were all at school together. She's stupid as well as vicious, Ella; certainly it wouldn't take much for her to believe that he would love to marry her, that all that's holding him back is money."

Ella agreed. "The only question is, how could Diantha find out? Who would know, who would be foolish enough to tell her?"

"Oh, I doubt if they told her," Sally Jo said. "Like you said, no one with any intelligence would tell Diantha anything confidential. I'd be willing to bet that whatever she knows, she found out by sneaking around, reading other people's mail and listening to their conversations."

"Reading mail..." Ella said. "Do you suppose that Diantha read my mail, Sally Jo? It would explain how Rodney knew about Sheriff Campbell, and Mama's troubles with him or with Mr Myers at the feed store."

Sally Jo looked troubled. "It would, wouldn't it? And I wouldn't put it past Diantha to sneak around and do that. Since you were attending many evening parties with her, she probably knew a good deal about your social schedule, and what she didn't know, she could probably find out. Did she go with you for daytime engagements?"

"Not if I could help it!" Ella said, laughing a little. "I hated going anywhere with her so much that I generally tried hard to find day-time events that she would find boring, so that she wouldn't want to go with me. I think I may have allowed my loathing for her company to blind me to what she was doing, because I can remember several occasions in recent months when I came back from long afternoon engagements to find her waiting for me; once, Flynn even told me that she waited in my office, but I paid no attention. Which was really foolish of me, because that's pretty much the same technique I've used to avoid Justin's company in the last few months."

Ella had not originally intended to tell Sally Jo all the details of her failing marriage; certainly she had not planned to do it _now_, when Sally Jo was so upset about William. But it occurred to her that perhaps focusing her attention on someone else might help Sally Jo to let go of some of the stress that she felt about her own situation.

Now her sister-in-law looked at her with those green eyes that were so amazingly unlike Mama's, even though the color was so similar. "I've thought that something was wrong between you and Justin for a while now," Sally Jo said, patting her sister-in-law's arm. "Would you like to tell me about it, dearest? I'm not prying, but sometimes talking does help."

"When I got here the other night, I burst into tears and flung myself into Mama's arms," Ella confessed.

"Oh, dear. How did Mama Scarlett react to that?" Sally Jo asked, smiling a little.

"Surprisingly well, for a woman who isn't terribly affectionate," Ella said. "She hugged me back, then told Rhett to get Dilcey to put the children to bed, and took me upstairs for a long heart-to-heart. She didn't have any good advice, though. I don't think that's a failure on her part; I just think it means that there isn't really any help to be had."

"Is he unfaithful to you?" Sally Joe asked.

Biting her lip, Ella nodded.

Sally Jo sighed. "I was afraid that he might be, eventually," she said gently.

"Were you?" Ella asked "Why? Is there something about me -"

"Oh, no, dearest!" Sally Jo grasped Ella's hand and squeezed. "Quite the contrary. I thought so because of Justin. He's lived all his life – certainly since he became an adult – in a world where he could have pretty much anything he wanted, whenever he wanted it. I don't find it impossible to think that Justin, once the glitter had worn off his marriage to you, would feel quite comfortable with the idea of having a mistress on the side. He would tell himself that you would never know, or that if you did find out you would be sensible, and pretend not to notice, just as all the wives he knows do. He would never believe that he was in any danger of losing you, because Justin has never lost anything that mattered. One can never tell what kind of person someone is until they've been challenged and Justin never has."

"He has now," Ella snapped, feeling the rise of her own anger when she thought of what he had done to their life, for no better reason than the want of a little novelty.

"Good for you," Sally Jo said.

"Did you really think that I would just put up with that behavior from him?" Ella asked.

Sally Jo smiled. "No. But I expect that I probably know you better than he does," she said gently. "Now let's have a cup of tea, and perhaps some cookies, and you can tell me all about it."

"Oh, you English and your cups of tea!" Ella exclaimed, throwing up her hands in mock-dismay. "I'll never understand your insistence on tea for all possible occasions.

* * *

Lanie took Gene's hand; they were closely followed by Gerry and Katie, then Lori and Sophie. "Where are we going?" Sophie whispered.

"Shh!" Lanie hushed. "You have to be very quiet, if you're going to come with us. Otherwise, we'll leave you in the nursery with the babies."

That threat caused even the intrepid Sophie to fall silent; nothing was worse, in her childhood lexicon of fears, than being relegated to the nursery where Anthony and Irene slept peacefully.

The six children crept to the kitchen, then to the pantry beyond. They shushed each other as the pantry door creaked slightly, and waited in tense silence for the adults on the back porch to notice them. When several minutes had passed, without any sign, Lanie eased the door open and slipped into the pantry, carrying a small bag with her.

"Six," she said, smiling triumphantly at her younger relatives. "The perfect number."

Out on the porch, Mama said something to Papa, and he answered, his voice a reassuring rumble. Silently, the children eased their way out the front door, down the steps, across the front lawn to the secret hiding place. Pulling aside the careless, natural-looking layer of vines, the children entered, the Butler and Fontaine twins proud to be showing their English nieces their marvelous secrets.

"It's a cave," Sophie said, looking around in awe. "A cave made of bushes."

"In the spring they have flowers," Katie told her. "It's really lovely then, and it smells _wonderful_."

"Perhaps one year we will be here to see it," Lori said.

"Can we eat now?" Gene said, unimpressed with the talk of flowers. "I'm hungry."

"Wait a minute," Lanie said, and since she had the bag with the treats in it, the others looked at her. "First, we have to have a prayer for William." Her younger brother turned his head sharply; even in the dim light, it looked like he was going to heap scorn on that idea, but Katie elbowed him in the ribs, and he stayed silent. "He's our_ nephew," _she said, as if in explanation. "It – it's our duty to pray for him."

The other girls nodded. Lori said, "Well, actually, he's our cousin, mine and Sophie's, not our nephew. Because you and Katie are our aunts, and the boys are our uncles, even though they are younger than me."

"That's true," Katie appeared to contemplate that thought for a moment. "Our family is just odd," she said at last.

"That's very true," Lanie agreed. The rest of the group of aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins nodded.

"Let's hold hands," Katie said, and the six of them solemnly clasped hands. "Dear Lord, we pray to you for the safety of our cousin/nephew, William Hamilton. We miss him a lot, and would be very sad if anything bad happened to him. Please bring him home soon. In Jesus' name we pray."

"Amen," all six of them chorused.

"Now," Gene said. "Let's eat!"

* * *

"Where do they go?" Ella asked her mother. The three of them, sitting on the back porch, were well aware of the night-time excursion of their children. "Do you know?"

"Oh yes, Wade followed them one night," Mama said, smiling at her. "Just to make sure they were safe. One of the flowering bushes that grows in the backyard is completely overgrown, so that there's an open place around the roots that is hidden by the fall of the branches. It creates a little cave of sorts, probably just large enough for the six of them."

"They'll have to find someplace larger next year," Rhett said.

"No," Scarlett said. "They won't."

He looked at her.

"By next summer, Lanie and Katie will be too much young women to find amusement in midnight feasts with their younger brothers," Scarlett said gently, with the knowledge of one who had seen children grow up before. "Those days are drawing to a close, and will soon be gone forever."

Ella nodded thoughtfully. "I was just thinking the same thing myself this morning, when I noticed that Lanie is almost as tall as I am. They are growing up fast, Mama."

"I don't believe I care for that idea," Rhett said grandly, stretching an arm across the back of the swing and touching Scarlett's shoulder. "You will please to put a stop to it at once, my dear."

Scarlett laughed. "I shall pass on your commands, my lord," she teased.

"Now, that I do like the sound of," Rhett said, smiling wickedly. "'My lord.' It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? In fact, I think I've waited my whole life for a woman who recognized my natural superiority to all other men. Thank you, my dear, for showing such good taste and discernment."

"How you do run on," she said fondly.

Their eyes met, just for a moment, and Ella's heart gave a quick, painful twinge._ I shall never have that,_ she thought sadly.

* * *

**As the name of this chapter indicates, I thought we should check and see how the women were coping with events. The title comes from the cheesy old westerns of my childhood; when they were changing scenes, they would put that up on the screen, or have a narrator say it.  
**

**Next chapter might even be up today, now that my internet is working again! I hate it when it goes down, but I live way out in the country, so it's not like I have a lot of other options.**

**Anyway, let me know how you liked it. I love all reviews!**


	16. Ella to the Rescue

**Ella to the** Rescue

* * *

Ella rose at what seemed to her a depressingly early hour. She had never enjoyed mornings, preferring to sleep in when possible. In that, she found London perfectly tuned to her needs; no one regarded it as at all unusual that she rarely stirred before ten, and often was not up and completely dressed until after noon. Over the years, however, she learned that most of the people here, including some whose opinion mattered to her, regarded it as purely slothful behavior to sleep so late, no matter what the pretext. If you were healthy and able, you should be up and working soon after dawn.

So when at Pine Bloom, Ella dragged herself out of bed at the outlandishly early hour of seven am. This particular morning, she felt more enthusiasm than she normally did, for she had at least gone to bed early, and was not half-dead from lack of sleep. The searchers would be going out for a second day today, and her mother had left at dawn to help Aunt Suellen prepare food for them, dragging her younger daughters with her. Dilcey had decided not to go, so Ella's girls, Anthony, and Ella's little brothers were in the kitchen with her, eating a hearty breakfast and getting ready for the day ahead. Ella dressed in the cool morning light and went down to the kitchen, yawning.

"Good morning, slug-a-bed," Sally Jo greeted her. It was easy to tell that she hadn't slept well; she had the kind of fine, translucent skin that showed the shadows of sleeplessness all to readily. But she made an effort to smile; it was obvious that several hours of her husband's company had comforted the worst of her anguish.

"Good morning," Ella said, yawning. "Please tell me there's more hot chocolate, Dilcey? I feel in dire need of it this morning."

"Dere's a bit left in de pot," Dilcey said. "Yore Mama said you was partial to it, so Ah kep' those heathen young'uns from drinkin' it all."

"Where did they go off to? The heathens, I mean?" Ella asked, smiling as she reached for the cup that Dilcey handed to her.

"Cap'n Butler took his boys off to school," Dilcey said. "Said dey needed all de educashun dey could get. Yo chillun is wid Kezia, doin' farm chores – gatherin' de eggs 'n' feedin' de chickens."

Ella nodded. Kezia was a warm-hearted and practical woman who had several children of her own; the babies wold be fine with her.

Before she could say anything else, they heard the sound of a horse galloping. Ella looked out the window, surprised to see that it was Jeb. He dismounted in one swift motion and headed for the kitchen door.

"Is Wade still here?" he asked, when she opened it before he had time to knock.

"No. He went over to Tara to help Rhett and Alex set up the search. What's wrong?"

The answer came from Sally Jo, and he smiled reassuringly at her. "Nothing's wrong, Mrs Hamilton," he said, his voice and face projecting such soothing calm that even an anxious mother like Sally Jo found herself convinced. "In fact, something might be very right. The other day when we went to the swamps to look for Rodney, I left word for my cousins to get in contact with me if they saw Rodney, and later I described William to them, so if they saw anything of either one, they could let me know. A few minutes ago, one of the young'uns from the shanty-town down by the river brought me a sign."

He reached in his front pocket and pulled out a grimy piece of ribbon.

"A piece of ribbon?" Sally Jo questioned.

"It's the ribbon I gave to my cousin Clay. He said he'd tie a piece around the sign post at the crossroads if they saw anything," Jeb told her. "He was going to give the rest to his sister Cassie. The urchin that brought that to me said that Cassie sent it, so I figure that she has news, but doesn't want her husband to know. So before I go to her house, I'm going to go check at the place she and I used to meet when we played together as children. I think that may be what she was trying to tell me by sending the ribbon, rather than tying it - that she didn't want me to come to her house. "

"Why not her house?" Sally Jo asked.

Jeb frowned. "Because her husband isn't a very nice man, to be perfectly honest. Billy Bob is stupid and mean and greedy. If he found William, he might decide to hold him for ransom himself; he's too dumb to realize that he would be creating more problems than he can handle. I need to talk to Cassie by herself, if at all possible.'

"So you think she might have found him?" Sally Jo asked eagerly.

"Or know where he is. I think it's possible, yes. So if Wade or Captain Butler come back, can you tell them that I've gone to try to find her? If she's not at our meeting place, I'll go to her house, but I really hope that won't be necessary."

"Of course, I'll tell them," Sally Jo said, smiling warmly at him. "Oh, I wish I could go with you! I don't suppose you can take a wagon?"

He shook his head regretfully. "No, ma'am. The road is pretty good till you get past the shanty-town down by the river, but after that, it's not much more than a muddy trail. You couldn't get a wagon down there."

"I'll go," Ella said.

Sally Jo looked at her with what seemed like pathetic gratitude. "Oh, could you?" she asked. "I'd feel so much better, knowing you were along. If she really does know where William is, he must be so frightened."

Ella looked at Jeb. He shrugged. "You could ride with me to the meeting place," he said, frowning a little. "But if she's not there – if I have to go to her house – I can't take you there. It's a hard slog through the swamps, and could be dangerous, if Billy Bob catches me in there."

"Well, how about this, then? We – you and I – go and check to see if your cousin is at your old meeting place. If she is, we find out her news. If she's not, we ride cross-country to find the searchers; they should have started just this side of shanty-town this morning, so it can't be far. Once we're there, you can get Wade or Beau or both to go with you to look for your cousin, and I can stay with my stepfather, or ride back to Tara."

Jeb nodded. "Sounds like a plan that will work," he said. "I'll go saddle a horse for you, while you get changed. Wear something that you don't mind getting dirty."

Ella nodded and went upstairs. Sally Jo soon followed, and helped Ella change into a brown twill riding habit that managed, in spite of its dull color and split-skirt design, to look smart and becoming on her slender frame. "I actually begin to think you really might look attractive in a sack," Sally Jo said, laughing. But she frowned when she saw Ella take a small, two-shot derringer from a box in the back of her closet, load it with ammunition that she kept stored in a separate case, and put it in her pocket.

"Ella, do you really believe that you'll need that?" Sally Jo asked.

Ella shrugged. "I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it," she said simply. "I hope we find William and get to bring him home quickly and easily, but if there are complications, I want to be ready to deal with them."

"Why do you suppose Jeb's cousin didn't just write him a letter?" Sally Jo asked curiously.

Ella smiled at her. "I don't imagine that she knows how to write," Ella answered.

Sally Jo flushed crimson with mortification. "Oh, I'm so glad I didn't ask Jeb that," she said. "I wouldn't hurt his feelings for the world. He seems like such a _nice_ young man."

"He does, doesn't he?" Ella asked, a tiny smile curving her lips.

* * *

They rode at a working trot. Ella had no trouble believing that Jeb had picked the best of the horses that hadn't already been taken; although Rhett had taken Gigi, the smaller Ruby Rose was still a speedy, comfortable riding horse, if a bit more docile than Ella really preferred. "For what we're doing, she might even be better than Gigi," Ella commented, stroking a hand over Ruby's flank.

"Why is that?" Jeb said, helping her to mount before turning back to his own horse.

"She's not as likely to jib or panic if she runs across something new, or be startled by a squirrel or a snake. She's less spirited, true, but when you're not sure what kind of terrain you'll be riding over, or what you might meet, that's a good thing. Isn't it, darling?" she patted the medium-sized mare's neck with gloved hands.

"You really like horses, don't you?" he asked, watching her steadily.

Ella smiled. "I love them. In fact, I have a rather shameful secret about my early fondness for horses."

He laughed. "I have a difficult time picturing you having a 'shameful secret' about anything, much less horses," he said.

Ella's smile faded, and she looked away. "Well, I do," she said, after a moment, forcing herself to smile again, knowing it was a weak effort. "Do you want to hear it, or not?"

"Oh, sure, tell me," he said. Daisy matched Ruby's pace effortlessly, in spite of the fact that she had already been ridden hard for several miles before Ruby started.

"You remember I told you I had a little sister who died in a riding accident? She was trying to jump, and her pony threw her. Bonnie died from the fall."

"I remember you told me about your sister," he agreed.

"Well, Bonnie and I always got along pretty well. She was a really beautiful child, and a little spoiled, but she didn't have an ounce of badness to her, just high spirits. I usually didn't mind that she was everyone's petted darling, except for Mr Butler."

"Mr Butler?"

"Her pony. I remember, not long before she died, she and Uncle Rhett went to Charleston to visit his family, then to Europe for a while, and though I missed them, part of me was really happy, because I got to ride her pony every day. Wade never cared for horses the way I did, and he was almost too big for a pony by then, so I got to ride Mr Butler every day. And when Bonnie came home, I cried because that meant she got her pony back, and I loved him much more than she did."

He frowned. "Why didn't you have your own pony? Or if there was only enough money for one, why didn't it belong to all the children? That would have been fair."

Ella shrugged, and looked away. "There was money enough for any number of ponies," she said softly. "But it would never have occurred to anyone to make Bonnie share. Or to ask if I wanted my own pony."

"Well, that's just wrong," he said, anger clouding his features.

"It's why I try hard not to play favorites with my own children," she said, unable to repress a shiver of pleasure at his protectiveness. "But anyway, it's not the point of my story."

"Oh, yes, your shameful secret," he said. "All right, let's hear it."

"After Bonnie died, Uncle Rhett killed the pony," Ella said. "And I cried. I cried for my sister, too, really I did; I loved her, and still miss her, but I loved that pony, too."

Jeb shook his head. "I don't see anything shameful about a kid crying for a pony. I do think it was a shame that no one thought of getting you your own pony, if they could afford it. Why didn't they?"

Ella looked away. "I guess... I was an easy child to overlook. I wasn't pretty or smart, like Bonnie, or the oldest, and a boy, like Wade. I was just lost in the middle, I suppose, and that Bonnie was Uncle Rhett's natural daughter and I wasn't made all the difference as far as he was concerned. He adored her. My own father died when I was younger than Anthony is now, so I don't remember him at all, but Uncle Rhett was never unkind. It was only the extreme contrast between the way he adored Bonnie, and was merely fond of me, that made it seem as if he were uncaring."

"Did you keep in touch with him, after he and your mother separated?" Though Jeb's eyes were sympathetic, he knew there as no point in dwelling on the sadness of the past.

"No. Mama went away. I don't think she intended to stay gone nearly as long as she did, but she met Uncle Tony, and we went to England. My life improved then; I was older, and prettier, and Mama was really happy, so she was easier to get along with. Even when the new babies came, Uncle Tony had time for me and Wade; he played with us, took us to the park, and to theater matinees...those were good years."

"And I bet he got you a pony, too." Jeb said laughing.

"Oh, no. By that time, I was too old for a pony. He got me my first full-size horse, a lovely flaxen-chestnut Peruvian mare."

He laughed. They were nearing the Shanty-town now, so she assumed they were getting close to their destination. "You need to remember, I'm not at all educated about kinds of horses. What does it mean, 'flaxen-chestnut Peruvian?'"

"Flaxen-chestnut is the coloring. This particular mare had a solid colored coat that was dark red -"

"Did it match your hair?" he asked curiously.

"No, her coat was darker, a really lovely auburn. And her mane and tail were a beautifully contrasting cream shade. She was strikingly beautiful, and because she was a Peruvian, she had a four-beat gait instead of a trot, so she was very smooth to ride."

Jeb laughed. "Once again, I don't have a clue what that means."

Ella nodded. "It's very rare; Peruvian horses are almost the only kind of horse that do it naturally. It has two do with the order in which the legs move when the horse is at medium speed. Uncle Tony selected her for me because she was so sure-footed and smooth, also because of her marvelous disposition. Constance was her name, and it suited her nature very well."

They were moving through the shanty-town now, and Jeb did not answer her. Taking her lead from his watchful silence, she stopped talking and looked around uneasily. The nightmarish poverty she saw around her was Clayton County's version of the Whitechapel or Spitalfields areas of London, a place where children were unfed, uneducated, and all too often, untended. Ella could never go near such places, even in London, without feeling a strong wish to do something to help, but the immensity of the problem defied easy solution. These places suffered from a poverty of the spirit as much as the body, and for that, Ella knew no cure.

She could not help but feel that they were closely watched, though they saw no one. She believed that Jeb thought the same thing; when she saw him put his hand on the butt of the pistol whose holster was strapped to his saddle, she knew she was right. Somewhere, out of sight, she heard a dog barking with a steady, frenzied beat that spoke of chronic anger. When the last of the buildings was behind them, she exhaled in silent relief.

"Pick up the speed a bit now," Jeb said. "I want to make sure we aren't followed on foot. I didn't see any other horses there, so if we can outpace a man at running speed for the next few minutes, we ought to be pretty safe."

"Would they follow us?" Ella asked curiously.

Jeb shrugged. "Some would, some wouldn't. Depends on the man, just like it does anywhere."

Ella glanced back over her shoulder. "I suppose your right," she said, with a little shiver. She vowed to be careful if they came back this way with William. She felt certain that some of the people here meant would do them evil if they could. It was the kind of place where shadows always lurked, even on a bright morning such as this one.

Jeb had been right; past the squalid little community of squatters, the road deteriorated markedly, becoming a mere trail that seemed to slither through the underbrush like the coils of a snake. About fifteen minutes after they had passed back into the forest, they came to a place where the river curved in front of them, blocking their path. "Where to?" Ella asked, studying the swiftly moving water in its stony banks. "I don't believe we can ford the river – certainly not here."

"No, we're here," he said, dismounting and turning to help her down.

"Where?" she asked, looking around. "You and your cousin used to meet on the riverbank?"

"No There's a cave," he told her. "I'll show you."

To reach the entrance of the cave, they had to skirt around the edge of a boulder that abutted the river; there was a thin ledge beside a ten foot drop into swift waters. "Are you sure we can go that way?" she asked.

He nodded. "I've done it often," he reassured her. "And Cassie does it, too. Come, I'll show you."

It wasn't as far as it looked, only a matter of some three feet before the ledge widened out again. On this side of the boulder, hidden from any other direction, grew a thin line of scrub bushes, and nestled among them was the narrow crevice that Jeb said opened up to a sizable cave.

"It's bigger than it looks," he said, smiling. "My cousins use it sometimes for storing their 'shine.

"And how do they get big jugs of moonshine in here?" she asked. "I can't believe they bring it around that rock."

"No, they bring it by boat," he said. "Not in jugs, but barrels. They fill the jugs here and send them back down the river by boat when they have a customer. It does make them hard to catch, particularly on a moonless night."

"I can picture that," she said. "If you knew where you were going and didn't need a light, you'd be almost invisible, even from the water."

He nodded. "That's the point," he agreed. "Come on, let's see if Cassie is here."

Stepping gracefully around the bushes, he bent his head, turned sideways, and slipped into the cave.

* * *

**This chapter just wanted to go on and on; I finally just had to cut it short. Tomorrow, we'll get to see what's in the cave!  
**

**Many thanks to the sharp-eyed reader who caught my error in the last chapter; I mistakenly tagged Sally Jo as the speaker of a line when it was obviously Ella who said it. If anyone else notices anything of the sort, please bring it to my attention so that I can fix it as I fixed that mistake. I like for my work to be as smooth a read as possible; It's the least I owe to the people reading it!**

**And as always, please review. I love to hear from you.**


	17. The Cave

**The Cave**

* * *

Ella followed, Jeb into the cave. Fearing that it would be gloomy and unpleasantly damp, she was reassured to discover that the room they entered was well-lit, because light streamed in from several small openings in the roof. Jeb, however, had already crossed the dusty floor to a dark opening in the wall, calling out as he did so. "Cassie! Are you here? It's Jeb!"

"I'm back here, Jeb!" called an odd, echo-y voice, which Ella recognized in spite of the distortion. William! With a joyful cry she leaped forward, and would have dashed into the darkness if Jeb hadn't held her back.

"Careful. It's uneven here," he said, slowing her with a hand on her arm. Ella barely noticed. Her attention was all on the voice she had just heard. "William!" she called. "Is that you?"

"Aunt Ella?" The tinny voice sounded utterly incredulous.

Three steps down a curving tunnel, water-carved from ancient stone, and yes, Jeb was right; it was uneven. But Ella could see the light ahead, flickering in the opening to her right, and she hurried towards it, heedless. "William!"

He flung himself into her arms. "Aunt Ella! You came for me! I was so afraid no one would."

"You thought we wouldn't look for you?" she asked, pulling back to give him big kiss on the cheek. "Of course we searched; darling, your mother is just about out of her mind with worry!"

"Well, yes, I guess I knew mom would worry, no matter what, but what about dad, Ella? Is he worried?"

"Of course he is! Wade loves you dearly, William Micheal Hamilton, and don't you ever forget it!"

"Even with the new baby coming?" William said, whispering so low that she had to bend her head to hear. "And – does he know that the bad man – Rodney – was only able to get me because I snuck out of the house?"

Oh, William." She hugged him fiercely. "Wade loves you as his oldest son – he will always love you. And yes, he does know that you snuck out, and I imagine he'll have a few well-chosen words to say about the matter, but it doesn't mean he doesn't love you, darling."

"Well, isn't this cozy," an ugly voice behind them sneered. "It's just like I thought – my wife and her cousin, sneaking around behind my back, making me look like a fool -"

Ella turned, and knew immediately that this was Billy Bob. He fit the description Jeb had given too well to be anyone else. He was huge – grizzly-bear sized – and unkempt, as though he had slept in the clothes he was wearing, perhaps for more than one day. His eyes were beady and set too close together, and he was dragging a pretty blond girl by one arm.

"As if you ever needed any help looking like a fool!"

The blond girl spoke in a rough, mocking voice, and Billy Bob slapped her, hard. From the look of her face, it wasn't the first time he had struck her today; one eye was swollen, and blood trickled from her nose in a steady, slow stream.

"Shaddup, you," he ordered. "It's time you learned your place, woman, and it isn't in the business of men."

She laughed. "Oh, like it's not me that will go hungry, when hard times come this winter because you and my brothers were stupid enough to store the 'shine someplace where your 'buyers,' could steal it from you, stead of keeping it here, like we always have, where it was safe -"

"We ain't never had no problem with dem buyers before," Billy Bob said. His lower lip stuck out wetly, and to Ella, he looked like an overgrown baby with a vicious temper.

"Yeah, because we've always kept the hootch where they couldn't get to it," she said. "It was too hard to get up here, and the place is easy to defend, which is what kept them buyers in line. But you had to get lazy. It was too much like work, bringing the stuff all the way up here. So now your buyers, the ones you bragged were too afraid of you to try anything, have run off with the 'shine that was all we had to show for a whole years crop. Congratulations, Billy Bob; you've made it so that we'll all probably starve to death this winter."

He made as if to hit her again, and Jeb went for him, moving with the lean ferocity of a panther, knocking him away from Cassie, who staggered across the cave and wound up tripping over William and Ella. Ella put a protective arm across her, too, and felt the other girl stiffen at the unexpected contact.

"Shh," Ella said, as she would have to one of her daughters who needed comfort. "Shush now, it will be all right."

She pulled her little gun out of her pocket, but it was difficult to find a target. Not only were the two men rolling across the floor like animals, but their movements had bumped the lantern that hung on a hook beside the door, causing it to swing back-and-forth. Shadows gyrated weirdly across the walls and floor of the little cave. After a moment, she realized that the longer the fight went on, the more the odds were against the smaller, slimmer Jeb winning. Ella decided she needed to act now. Aiming the gun carefully at the ceiling, she fired.

The effects were not what she had envisioned. The two men did roll apart looking around wildly for the source of the shot before their eyes widened at the sight of Ella holding her little gun. Even more of a problem, however, was the rumbling that came from deep in the ground as the vibration of the gunshot died away. The cave was collapsing!

When he realized what was happening, Jeb leaped towards Ella, Cassie and William; his instinct was to protect them. Billy Bob, however, ran for the exit. The collapse of the stone entrance tunnel caught him, first knocking him down, then burying him under tons of rubble. Ella did not see this last, however, for Jeb had thrown himself over them, trying to protect them from the debris that bounced from the new cracks in the ceiling and floor. Ella closed her eyes and prayed, hugging William and Cassie to her as she did.

Perhaps her prayers were efficacious. To the end of her life, she would believe so, anyway; it seemed utterly miraculous to her that, as the roar of falling rock faded, they were still alive. Dust filled the air, making her cough, and she could see debris spread across the floor of the cave, but no more was falling, and they seemed to be uninjured. Even the lantern was still lit, though the flame flickered wildly; the wall on which it had been hung remained mostly intact.

With a groan, Jeb rolled away from her. "Next time you plan on causing the walls to fall, give me some warning, hmm?"he said, smiling a little dazedly at her.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Next time, I'll just let him beat you to death," she answered. "In all seriousness, though, I didn't know the gunshot would cause the cave to collapse. Did he – Billy Bob – get out?"

"No," Jeb said bluntly. "I saw the tunnel collapse catch him. He's dead for sure."

"Cassie, I'm sorry if that grieves you," Ella said gently. "But my family owes you a huge debt for saving William; I promise when we get out of here, we'll find away to pay it back that will make sure that you and your baby are taken care of." She turned to Jeb. "That is, if we get out of here. Please, _please,_ tell me that there's another way out of this cave."

"Oh, aye, to be sure," Jeb said. "There are several other entrances to the caves. Cassie and I explored the whole system when we were kids, so we know which way to go. The only question would be which outlet to head for. What do you think, Cassie?"

"Um," she hesitated. "I think probably the best way would be through the room with the lake. It's longer, but there's no tunnels to crawl through, and it's not as steep. William here got hit over the head, and he's still a little dizzy from time to time. We don't want to risk him falling, and the other route all have climbs."

"I'd better check the oil in the lantern. If we're low, that may be a problem." Jeb crossed over to the lantern and lifted it, carefully looking in the fuel reservoir.

"It should be all right," Cassie said. "I filled it this morning, since I was going to leave the kid for a while, to find out what was taking you so long." She rose to her feet with an effort, and Ella noticed how pale she was, and how stiffly she held the arm that Billy Bob had wrenched so cruelly when he brought her into the cave.

"Is it broken?" she asked, touching the bruised wrist gently.

Cassie shook her head. "I don't think so. I think he just sprained it real good, pulling on it like he did."

"I think Cassie will be better off now that he's gone," William said thoughtfully. "I didn't know him very well, but he didn't seem like a very nice person to me."

Cassie looked solemn. "I know it's wrong to wish someone else harm, but I can't be sorry, either," she said. "I never really understood why Papa wanted me to marry him. I'm just glad he died before he found out just how horrible Billy Bob really was."

"Your pa figured he'd be around to keep Billy Bob in line," Jeb said. "He told me so, when I asked him why he was making you marry a mean man like that'un. Your Pa said Billy Bob wouldn't dare to really hurt you if he was around, and he didn't plan on dying as soon as he did. Uncle Newton figured by the time you'd settled down and had a few babies, you and Billy Bob would get along as well as most married couples."

Cassie nodded sadly. "Well, Papa wasn't above bruisin' me a little hisself, so I don't guess he understood how much worse Billy Bob was. I don't think I'd ever got used to it, no matter how long I was with him."

"Your father beat you?" William asked, horrified.

Cassie looked uncomfortable. "Well, not really beat. I didn't go to school with black eyes, or get my ribs broke, like some kids did. But he left his mark when he spanked me, right enough. Sometimes, I'd have trouble sitting on them hard benches at the schoolhouse, with them welts from his belt buckle hurting me. But mostly it was okay; jes' ever so often, he'd get to drinking and missing Mama. Then he'd remember about her dying when I was born, and I'd get it."

"Looks like there's enough fuel. But we'd better get going; it's always possible there will be another cave-in, and if there is, I'd rather be gone before it happens," Jeb said.

"I agree. Come on, William." Ella took her nephew's hand.

"I wish we had some water, though," Jeb said. "This dust is making my throat awfully dry."

"I've got some water," William said pulling his back pack off. "And some biscuits, if anyone is hungry. Cassie made them yesterday afternoon, so they might be a little stale."

"No, keep them. If there's any more trouble, we might be glad to have them," Jeb said. "Just give me the water now. I think we can all use a drink to wash the dust out of our mouths." William didn't seem to notice the mention of possible trouble, but Ella definitely did, and she suspected Cassie did as well. For the sake of the boy, neither of them said anything.

"By the way, where were you, Jeb?" William asked, handing the canteen to Jeb, who passed it to Ella.

"What do you mean, where was I?" Jeb asked. "I came as soon as I got Cassie's sign. This morning."

"I sent that blasted kid with it last night," Cassie said. "That's why I left this morning, looking for you, but Billy Bob caught me instead." Ella uncapped the canteen and took a deep drink of water. After the dust raised by the cave-in, it tasted marvelous.

Jeb shrugged. "Considering it was one of the shanty-town kids, I suppose we're lucky she delivered it at all. I'm sorry it got you caught, though."

She passed the canteen to Cassie, who took a drink and handed it to William. When they had all drank, Jeb capped the canteen and handed it to William. "Put this back in your back-pack. Good thinking, to remember to fill it up again before you came here."

William smiled proudly, and put the canteen back in his back-pack.

"Cassie, do you feel well enough to take the lead?" Jeb asked. "I remember that you were always better at finding the way when we were kids."

"Ha. First time I've ever heard that come out of your mouth," Cassie grumbled.

Jeb gave her a look. "We're not ten years old and playing around any more," he said. "So do you feel up to it, or not?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "You'll have to hold the lantern, though."

He nodded. "That's fine. William, I want you after Cassie, just in case she needs help."

Seriously, William assumed his place in line.

"Ella, your next. And I'll bring up the rear, just to make sure nothing bad is following us."

Ella looked around at the damp walls, with shadows jumping wildly as the lantern in his hand moved, and shivered. "Don't even joke about that," she said, shaking her head. "I will be so glad when we are out of here."

"You're not scared of caves are you?" He smiled at her.

"Well, I wasn't, before half of this one fell in on me," she joked.

"Let's go then. Cassie, we're ready. Lead out."

It took almost an hour. A small section of the roof had fallen in at the underground lake, forcing Jeb to climb some debris to find a path through, but once he was sure of which way to go, it wasn't as hard as Ella had feared to continue. She had to admit, however, that the moment when she first saw natural light ahead of them was a very happy one for her.

They had to squeeze through the opening to the outside. "That's a bit smaller than I remember," Jeb commented, brushing dirt from his clothes.

"Or maybe ye're a bit bigger," Cassie commented. "It was you who just said we're not ten anymore, wasn't it?"

"You have a point," Jeb admitted, smiling at her.

"Where are we, relative to where we left the horses?" Ella asked, putting a hand on William's shoulder. "There are some people who are mighty anxious to see this boy."

"The river is about a quarter of a mile that way," Jeb said, pointing east. "After that, it's about another hundred yards to where we left the horses. Cassie, did you and Billy Bob come by boat?"

"Yes, why?" she asked.

"Pine Bloom is downstream," Jeb said. "And we don't have enough horses to carry us all comfortably. So if the boat's still there, we can take it, come back for the horses later."

"If is a good question," Cassie said. "Billy Bob wasn't known for being careful with even important things, much less details like makin' sure the boat was tied up proper. If the cave-in caused part of the bank to collapse, it might easily be gone."

"If it is, we'll figure out what we need to do then," Ella said. "The boat would be much more comfortable for you, though; I've watched you, both in the cave and out here, and from the way you move, I expect a couple of ribs are cracked, if not broken. The last thing you need is a long ride back to Pine Bloom."

Cassie smiled, but it obviously took a lot of effort. "I'll be all right," she said. "Us swamp girls are tough."

By the time they arrived back at the river, where the boat was indeed waiting, Jeb was mostly supporting a faltering Cassie, and Ella did the same for William. The strain of the past few hours, combined with their injuries, had weakened both of them. Cassie's arm was horribly bruised; she had a black eye and her nose continued to bleed sluggishly. William seemed to be fine at times, but at other times he seemed to have trouble balancing himself, causing Ella to believe that the dizziness from being hit over the head had not dissipated. The sooner both of them were back at Pine Bloom to be cared for by a doctor, the happier Ella would be.

* * *

**A couple of quick notes. The word 'hootch' to refer to illegal, untaxed liquor officially dates from around 1895. But since words were very often in common usage before the academic type who write the dictionaries take notice, I feel it's reasonable to use it five years earlier, especially in the speech of one of the very people who would have invented the word.**

**Also, I could not find any reliable reports of loud noises causing a cave to collapse, but this is a folklore kind of thing, and I couldn't find any kind of proof that it wasn't true, either. So, since it went so well with my story line, I included it.**

**Yesterday was Vivien Leigh's birthday. She would have been 101, but I bet if she'd lived this long, she'd have been the most beautiful woman in the nursing home. Good bone structure never fades.**

**Thanks for reading. Review if you can; I always love to hear from you.**


	18. William comes home

**William Comes Home**

* * *

Jeb used the single rough-hewn paddle only to keep the boat in the deepest water, steering them adroitly away from sand bars and gravel shoals. They drifted past the shanty-town, where a handful of ragged urchins fished from a wooden pier that had lost so many boards that it looked as if a strong storm could wash it away. "Poor kids," Cassie said, "if they don't catch anything, they'll go hungry tonight. They might even if they do catch a fish or two; most of them probably feed their whole household."

"I like fishing," William said. He leaned against Ella's shoulder, and she stroked his tousled, dirty hair back from his face.

"We'll go soon. You and me, maybe my brothers and Anthony."

"Anthony is such a baby," William said, a hint of complaint in his voice.

Ella laughed. "Of course he is. He's only two. But he looks up to you and the twins so much – wants to be just like you. So it's good for him to spend time with you; it helps him to know what to do. Just like you and the twins spent time with Wade and Rhett, or your Fontaine cousins, learning how men and older boys are supposed to act."

"He looks up to us?" William asked, and Ella could tell the idea pleased him.

"Of course he does. He thinks that you are marvelous, and he's already told me several times since we've been here that he wants to play with the boys instead of the girls."

"Hmm. That's pretty smart," William said. "I mean, for a little boy."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said so. It'll tickle him to pieces."

Ella turned to Cassie. "Are you feeling better now that you're sitting down? You have a little more color in your face."

Cassie smiled hesitantly. "I'm fine, Mrs – uh – Mrs Markham?"

Ella shook her head. "Call me Ella," she said decisively. "I meant it when I said that we owe you a great debt for what you did. No telling what would have happened to William without you. We'll make sure that you and the baby have food for the winter, and a job for you once he's born, if you want."

"What kind of a job?" Cassie asked.

"I don't know. What do you like to do?"

"I like being outside around animals, mostly," Cassie answered diffidently. "I know it's not usually done that way – women don't usually get hired to work outside on a farm – but I think I'd die if I had to be cooped up in a house, working as a maid, never seeing the sun from one day to the next."

Ella studied her, smiling. "Tell me," she said, taking Cassie's hand, "do you like horses?"

Behind her, she could hear Jeb snort, as if he were holding back laughter, but she ignored him. Cassie heard him, though; she cast him an inquiring glance, and when she turned back to Ella, her face had changed, hardening into a cool stare. Ella guessed that the other girl believed that Ella was mocking her.

"Sure," she said, shrugging. "I like horses well enough. I don't get a chance to ride often – horses are pretty useless in the swamp, so my pa never owned one – but I ride Daisy often enough."

"Oh, just ignore him," Ella said, tilting her head towards Jeb. "He's laughing because every time I talk to him, it's about horses; he doesn't think I know any other subject of conversation. But I have a good reason for bringing them up now. I'm thinking about starting a horse farm here in Clayton County. Aunt Sue and Mama agreed to lease me the land, if I decide to do it. It would take a year or so to get the land cleared and fenced and planted with a good grass/alfalfa mix. Then we would be ready to start buying horses. That would give you time to get over having the baby before you would need to do any hard work."

"Coming up on Pine Bloom now," Jeb said, beginning to paddle with more energy. The river was wide and slow here, so it didn't take much work to get them headed towards the dock. Jeb moved forward to the bow, so he could grab the wooden post and tie up the boat. "It'll jar a little," he warned them; Ella put an arm around Cassie and William, to brace them.

Once he had brought the bow around and secured the line to the dock, Jeb glanced around, frowning as he scanned the junk in the bottom of the boat. Then he sighed. "No wonder this boat is in such sorry shape, if that's the way Billy Bob tied her up," he muttered. "We'll just have to hope that no storms come up before I can find some more rope, 'cause if they do, this boat's likely to dash itself to pieces on the dock."

"Rope?" William said. "I have rope." He opened his backpack and took out the coiled length he had placed there – was it only yesterday? "It's what he used to tie me," he explained, when Jeb glanced inquiringly at him.

"That was really good thinking," Jeb said, smiling at the boy. "Now, let's help the ladies out, and then I 'spect your mama is eager to see that you're all right."

"I bet she is," William said, his face brightening. He turned to help Ella out, leaving Cassie (who required more help because of her arm) to Jeb. Once they were all on dry land, William started up the path, heading for the house, while Jeb and Ella flanked Cassie and helped her to climb the steep bank. By holding her sore wrist across her ribs, Cassie was able to ascend without too much pain, and once away from the river, the path leveled out so that she could walk without difficulty. The bruises showed clear and vicious against her pale skin, and she looked in altogether pitiful shape.

Ella looked ahead to where Sally Jo, standing at the back door with her hand shading her eyes as she looked toward them, had just caught sight of William. With a cry of joy, she sped towards him, and soon engulfed him in her embrace. "Oh, William," she said, stroking his hair. He flinched when her hand accidentally brushed the bump on the back of his head. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Sally Jo asked him. Gently she probed the swollen area.

"He got hit over the head," Ella said as she came up beside them. "I think the best thing to do would be to take him inside and fix him – along with the rest of us – a light lunch. We can send someone for Wade and tell him to bring Young Doc. Cassie needs to be seen, too."

Cassie started to protest, but Ella simply overrode her. "I won't take 'no' for an answer on this," she told the younger girl. "You have been injured, and it happened because you were trying to help William. We are responsible for this, and I intend to see you taken care of."

Ella's firm tone convinced Cassie that arguing would accomplish nothing. Ella took her arm and led her to the house. "Besides," Ella said, "I am interested in the idea of working with you. So far, you seem to be smart and resourceful; I think you'll be fun to have around. But first, we need to make sure that you and the baby are healthy."

William sat at the table. Sally Jo could barely keep her eyes from him, and her distraction made it easier for Ella to bring Jeb and Cassie into the dining room to eat. She knew that under other circumstances, Dilcey would have rolled her eyes and muttering under her breath at the "very idea of bringin' dat white trash into quality folk's house." But Dilcey adored Sally Jo; for some reason, the rather taciturn housekeeper at Pine Bloom had bonded with the English lady who had come to marry Wade. If Sally Jo wanted them there, Dilcey would clamp her mouth shut and say nothing. Right now, Sally Jo couldn't care less, and since Ella intended that both of the cousins would be welcomed at Pine Bloom, she took advantage of the general distraction to move toward that goal.

Gathering everyone into the dining room, Ella sent Pansy to tell one of the outdoor workers to ride to Tara and tell the searchers that William had been found, and ask that Young Doctor Joe come back to Pine Bloom with Rhett and Wade. Then she began to bring in food – ham and potato salad left over from what was made for the searchers, along with a loaf of bread still fresh from the oven, a pitcher of cold tea, and an apple pie intended for tonight's dessert. At the sideboard she sliced a tomato and some lettuce, then put everything on serving plates and set it on the table.

While Sally Jo washed William's face and hands before beginning to clean his injury, Ella made a simple lunch. She saw Cassie watching her from the corner of her eye. Deliberately, she kept her movements slow and sure, letting the other girl see how it was done. She sliced the bread, spread mustard on it, used a serving fork to put the meat and cheese on it. Each sandwich went on a plate with a scoop of potato salad, and Ella set each place with a fork, a plate and a glass for the tea. It was nothing fancy, for them, but she saw the way Cassie's eyes widened when she retrieved silverware from the drawers in the sideboard, and glasses from a cabinet filled with shining crystal.

Not only would the fancy implements seem new and overwhelming to Cassie, but Ella would be willing to bet that the simple abundance of food was a rarity in Cassie's hardscrabble life. If Ella had anything to do with it, those days were over. She liked Cassie, and the family owed her a great debt. The least they could do was to make sure that Cassie and her child had enough to eat.

By the time they were finished eating, Wade was back. He entered the dining room like a hurricane, pulling William and Sally Jo into a brief but intense embrace before he forced himself to pay attention to the rest of the people in the room. It wasn't that he disliked them, or resented their presence; it was that he could hardly stand to take his eyes off his wife and son, both of whom glowed under his attention.

Finally, Sally Jo asked, "Wade, is Young Doctor Joe coming? I think he needs to see William, and Cassie, too – her arm is sprained, or perhaps broken."

"I don't believe it is broken, ma'am," Cassie said, straining to be polite.

Wade smiled at her. "It won't hurt to have the doctor check it anyway," he said. William had not yet told Wade everything that happened, but there had been enough information to make it clear that Cassie had gone out of her way to help William, at considerable risk to herself. "He's going to be here in a few minutes. He had gone out with Uncle Rhett – one of the searchers stumbled over a bee hive, and the bees were not happy about it. Several of the men were stung half a dozen times or more, so Young Doc rode out to put some salve on the stings. He should be here in a bit."

Sally Jo smiled at him. "That's good," she said. "In he meantime, I'm going to take William upstairs and get him cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. He looks like he's been dragged through a hedge, backwards."

"I practically have," William said, but he stood up in obedience to his mother's wishes. Now that the excitement seemed to be dying down, William didn't act like he minded the idea of being pampered by his mother at all. They left the room together, and Wade turned his attention to his sister.

"Now," he said. "Tell me everything."

* * *

When the three of them finished telling Wade what happened, he sat for a moment, deep in thought. Then he said, "Rodney will have to be found. And dealt with."

Cassie and Jeb didn't seem to notice anything amiss, but Ella stared at her brother, as disturbed as if he had jumped up and screamed out his anger. Wade never spoke like that, his voice cold and implacable; if he hadn't brought so much pain to her family, she would have felt sorry for Rodney. She would not have cared to have Wade talk about her that way.

"I didn't call the searchers off," he said quietly. "I wanted to make sure that William really was home, first. But I think if Rhett and Alex will let me keep their men for the rest of the afternoon, we need to go search the shanty-town for Rodney, and find and talk to Emmielou. That girl is as bad as her mother; maybe worse, 'cause her mama has filled her up with all kinds of stories about the Fontaines being responsible for her daddy's death. So she hates Mama and anyone associated with her, because Mama married Uncle Tony."

Ella nodded, still watching Wade carefully. "I agree," she said sadly. "I'm not sure what to do, though. It seems unreasonably cruel to make the squatters leave and clear out the shanty-town and burn down the cabins so they can't come back – especially now, with winter coming on. There are _children_ there, Wade. I know the land is ours, and other landowners are doing it, but it just seems so harsh."

Wade ran one hand through his brown hair. "I know," he said. "But we can't have people living there that are willing to harbor someone like Rodney – someone who they know is trying to hurt members of the family. It's not safe, Ella. I'm not so much worried for the grown-ups as I am for the children. William did something foolish, true, but the penalty for that should not have been being kidnapped by a criminal with a grudge against our family."

"I can't disagree with you there, Wade, but the criminal didn't come from the people who live int the shanty-town," Ella said. "The real criminal was a man who was born and raised in the lap of luxury, who is a criminal by choice, not necessity. And even though Emmielou _harbored_ the criminal_, _that's not the same thing as doing it herself. Left to her own devices, she's almost powerless – and she has children, too, at least I think she does."

"She has two," Jeb said quietly.

Wade turned to him in surprise; he and Cassie had been so quiet that Wade had almost forgotten that he was there. "I suppose you're going to tell me you agree with her," he said, in an angry tone most unlike his usual mild voice.

"No," Jeb said. "I wasn't going to say that. But I don't completely agree with you, either. If you want my opinion, I'll give it, but not if it's going to stop me from being able to work for you. I need the job, so if it comes to that, I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

Wade shook his had. "I haven't ever fired a man for giving me an opinion that I asked for," he said. "A man who makes a habit of shooting the messenger finds out that he doesn't hear the truth from anyone. So go ahead."

Jeb took a drink of his tea. Then he said, "I think you have the wrong idea of how the world works."

"What do you mean?" Wade asked, his eyes narrowing. Ella listened carefully; she, like Wade, had expected something more specific about what to do about the shanty-town, so this was a surprise.

"You think that if you just do all the right things, you can protect your people from having bad things happen to them," Jeb said. "But there are a huge number of bad things that can happen to folks, even when you're doing your best. William could have fallen out of that tree when he climbed down. He could get diphtheria next week, or drown in the river next summer. He could die in a hundred different ways before he ever gets to be a man, and after that – a thousand different ways for a man to die, and most of them are no one's fault. The only way to protect William from every risk would be to never let him take any. The idea you have that you can protect him from everything is just wrong. That's part of your problem.

"The other part of your problem is that you're looking at this in a short-sighted way. If you burn those cabins down and drive those people out, they'll go. Won't have no choice, will they? But if they do go like that, you've taken a bunch of people – three or four dozen, counting the young'uns, and turned them from folks who mostly don't care about you, one way or 'nother, to folks who have a real grudge. It don't make any sense, in the long run, because people who have what they regard as a reason to hate you will take crazy risks to hurt you, just like Rodney has."

"You think Rodney has just cause to hate me?"

"Doesn't matter what I think," Jeb said. "What matters is what he thinks. And what they will think, the people evicted from the shanty-town. I can understand that you're angry and feel threatened, and you want to deal with that as directly as possible. But tell that to the ten year-old-boy whose little sister starves to death this winter, or who sees his mother with no choice but to turn to a life of shame to feed them. What's he going to think of you, when he's grown up? Is he going to be a man that you can live peacefully with? And what if, someday, that boy is the only one who can toss you or your son a rope when you're drowning. What happens then?"

"So what do you suggest I do?" Wade asked. "I don't have a grudge against those people – any of them. But I can't let people live on my land, within a couple of miles of my house, who won't even report a kidnapping attempt on my son. You can't expect that."

Jeb sighed. "Except for Emmielou, who isn't sane on the issue of your family, I don't think that anyone there actually knew about the kidnapping," he said carefully. "I think most of them are fairly decent people, who wouldn't be a party to hurting a little boy who hadn't ever done anything to them. I admit most of them wouldn't care if someone told them that Rodney was here to hurt you, but they wouldn't like the idea of making a child part of it. But maybe it would be possible to work with them in some way..."

"What do you mean, work with them?" Wade said, his voice disdainful. "From what I can tell they don't do any work beyond a little fishing, or raising corn to make 'shine."

"And it's true that some of them wouldn't, even if they could," Jeb said. "But the years since the war have been hard ones for farmers; it's been one bad weather year after another, droughts, then floods, then insects...its a wonder more of them haven't starved, or died of disease. But some of them would work, if they had a chance at something that would feed their family; and there are others who lost their jobs through things that aren't their own fault. Roan Spivey is mostly blind now, for instance; but ten years ago, he had a snug little business up in Athens, building cabinets. When he got to where he couldn't see, his son and daughter-in-law took the business over and kicked him out. So now he lives here, and doesn't need to see any further than the bottom of a bottle."

Wade looked at him. "So what do you suggest I do?" he asked, his tone less certain than it had been a moment ago.

"I don't know," Jeb said. "But it seems to me that a smart man like you might be able to think of something. Show your son that the way to deal with adversity is to build bridges, not weapons."

"Bridges, not weapons," Wade mused. Looking up, he smiled at Jeb. "I don't know if it's possible," he said. "Might already be too late for that. But I wouldn't mind trying, anyway."

* * *

**I'm sorry It's been so long since I've updated. This last week has been a disaster as far as having writing time; my mom is back in the hospital, and I've needed to spend a lot of time with her, so I've had to put this temporarily to a back burner. I can't write in the hospital environment; too many interruptions. But I haven't forgotten this story, at all, and have written out the events for the next few chapters, so when I get the time to write them, it should be quick.**

**Can't promise when the next update will be. My mom is going to a (physical therapy) rehab, and they want me to be involved in her PT, so I can continue it at home. Until I see how that works out, time-wise, I'll have to wing it. But I will try to get back to you on the reviews I haven't answered (did anyone start to wonder if I'd died? Or been kidnapped like poor William?)**

**I'll try to get to the reviews, if you'll write them If I don't, know that they brighten my day, every one.**


	19. Doctor's Visits

**Doctor's Visits**

* * *

Wade opened the door as Rhett and Young Doc rode into the yard. "William is upstairs in the playroom," he told the doctor. "And after you've seen him, you have another patient, a young lady who helped to rescue him and got hurt doing so."

Young Doc nodded and took the steps two at a time, disappearing down the hall. He had been to Pine Bloom many times over the past few years; his youngest half-brother had been a favored playmate of Katie and Lanie's, and so Young Doc had become very familiar with the layout of the rooms. He would find William and Sally Jo, of that Wade had no doubt.

"Is the boy okay?" Rhett asked, dismounting and walking over to where Wade stood leaning against the porch railing.

"I think he will be," Wade answered slowly. "Rodney hit him over the head hard enough to knock him out for a while, but I think he'll be fine. He ate a good lunch just before I got here, but his mom wanted to take him upstairs... get him cleaned up and his clothes changed... fuss over him, the way women like to do when they've been as badly frightened as Sally Jo has been."

Rhett nodded. "I am aware. Your mama was not very domestic when she was young, but she's gotten a lot more maternal since she's gotten older."

"You'd better not let her hear you say that," Ella said, emerging onto the porch, followed closely by Jeb.

"What that she's become maternal?" Rhett raised his hand to stroke his mustache.

"No, that she's gotten older," Ella answered, laughing. "She still thinks she's sixteen, and the belle of the county, don't you know?"

"More importantly, she knows that I think so," Rhett said, smiling at his stepdaughter. "One of my favorite memories of your mother is the way she looked the day I met her – she really was sixteen, you know – and she wore a white dress with green ribbons that matched her eyes."

"Did she?" Ella asked interestedly. "That must have been before she married Wade's papa?"

"It was, but barely. I believe it was the day he proposed, and they became engaged," Rhett answered. "So you can see that I didn't much appeal to her; she married twice before she so much as gave me a second glance."

"Oh, I bet she glanced at you a few times," Ella said. "You're still a handsome man, Uncle Rhett; when you were younger, you must have been very dashing, indeed. Mama would have liked that."

Rhett smiled at her, his teeth gleaming whitely in the sunlight. "Why, thank you, Miss Ella," he said, bowing to her; if the movement was a bit stiffer than it would once have been, he gave no sign. Straightening, he ran his hand through his hair, now liberally streaked with silver at the temples, and turned to Wade, who was staring into the distance and hadn't heard a word they had said. "Wade, what do you propose to do with Rodney when we find him?"

Wade shook his head. "I don't know, Uncle Rhett. All my instincts tell me that he's a danger that needs eliminated, but I'm just not sure I can just kill him in cold blood, even when I think it might be best."

Rhett nodded. "I do know what you mean," he said. "It's too bad we can't arrange for him to go to Australia or something. He's not the type who would do well under adversity."

"He hasn't even done well in the lap of luxury," Ella answered. "His branch of the family aren't the wealthiest, but certainly he's always had enough to live comfortably. I don't understand what makes him such an ugly person."

Wade shrugged, "There are always people who want more than they have."

"That's not a good enough explanation," Ella insisted. "I want things I don't have, but I don't go around kidnapping little boys to get them."

"How do you go about getting them?" Jeb asked.

"What?" she looked confused.

"The things you want," he said. "How do you go about getting them?" She still looked confused, and he elaborated. "For instance, you've thought about expanding your horse breeding operation to this country. You've talked to landowners about leasing pasturage. I'd be willing to bet that you've checked on the cost of seed, and fencing, and lumber for barns. You've probably discussed, with Wade and Rhett and Alex, how much you'd have to pay for labor. The reason why you've done those things is that you've seen your mother, and other people like her, work at creating the things they want. You know how to get there. But Rodney doesn't. Like a lot of other rich boys, he's only seen people _have_ things. He's never seen them create. That's the difference. Rodney is trying to take the things he wants, ready-made, because he has no idea how to make them himself." He smiled ruefully. "And he doesn't know that most of the satisfaction is in the building."

Wade nodded. "That's true. I never really thought about it before, but all of the things we have here are better because we built them ourselves, or at least improved them all out of recognition. If they had just been handed to us, they wouldn't mean nearly as much."

"And I expect that's the problem with your friend Rodney. Everything he has was handed to him, and even though he wants more, he doesn't know the right way to go about getting it. He's been trained all his life to look down on people who work for a living, but being taught to work would probably have been the best thing for him."

"Which still doesn't solve the problem of what we're going to do with him when we find him,"  
Wade said. "I'm going to have lunch here, with Sally Jo and William, then ride back to Tara with you, Rhett, and see if we can search the shanty-town this afternoon. Jeb, would you go with us? Maybe if you talked to the people there, violence would be less likely."

"I'll help any way I can, but I think most of them will only be worried that their wives and kids will be upset," Jeb said. "As long as you don't insult the womenfolk, you' ll probably be all right. Provided Rodney's the only thing you're looking for."

"What do you mean?" Wade asked.

Jeb shrugged. "I imagine all kinds of contraband could be found there," he said. "But I also imagine that a man who went looking for it would make himself mighty unpopular. They're the same as my kin who live out in the swamps; they think a man's got a right to do what he pleases as long as he isn't hurting anyone else."

"Not a bad way to live," Rhett commented.

Jeb huffed a laugh. "You'd be surprised at the number of people who disagree with you," he said. "Lots of folks think that it's their bound duty to tell other people how to live, or to outlaw things that they don't like."

"That's the truth," Cassie said from behind them. "Like that minister that comes out in the swamps sometimes, trying to convert all of us heathens to his type of religion. Only problem is, if me and my brothers didn't make 'shine, we'd starve. It brings in a _lot_ more cash than the actual corn would, plus it doesn't spoil."

Rhett looked at her. "It's a true fact that to a certain kind of minister, starving would be preferable," he said.

She laughed. "I know it." Then the laughter changed to coughing, and she wrapped her arms around her ribs to ease the pain that they gave her.

"Wade, I think Alex and I will head back to Tara and let Will know that we'll need the men at least for another afternoon, cause whatever we decide to do, we still need to find Rodney," Rhett said. He clapped his stepson on the shoulder, and the two older men turned back towards their horses. Wade and Ella watched them ride away; Ella turned to ask Wade a question about the eventual disposition of Rodney when they heard firm footsteps in the house behind them.

"Wade, did you say you have someone else you want me to look at?" Young Doctor Joe asked as he opened the screen door that led from the house.

"Yes, Cassie here was injured helping William to elude the kidnappers," Wade said. He stepped aside so that the doctor could see Cassie, who stood on his far side. "She might have a broken arm."

Young Doctor Joe had moved forward, towards the hunched-over figure of the girl who was his other patient. He had taken only a step, however, when he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening.

Wade turned, but he saw nothing but Cassie, the pretty-but-bedraggled girl from the swamp. Frowning, he turned back to Young Doc, who was staring at Cassie, his eyes focused and intent. Wade didn't understand; Young Doc's reputation was that of a ladies' man, but he was never obvious about his interest like this. He looked like he'd just been hit over the head with a brick.

And Cassie? Wade checked; yes, she looked pretty much the same.

"Um," Wade said, not sure how to handle this. "Maybe you should take her in the house where you can look at her arm properly?" he suggested after an awkward moment.

He was pretty sure that it wasn't awkward to his friend, or to Cassie. They looked completely oblivious to the existence of other people in the vicinity.

Ella took a step forward. Her eyes met Wade, and he saw that only with difficulty was she suppressing laughter. "Come in the house so the doctor can look at your arm, Cassie," she said, gently taking hold of the un-injured limb.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Cassie agreed. She walked past Doctor Joe, looking at him as if puzzled, and he followed them across the porch and into the house.

"Well, that was interesting," Wade said, his tone amused. "I reckon all of Ella's plans for Cassie's future are probably ruined now."

"And what do you mean by that?" Jeb asked; Wade turned to him, startled by the fury in his voice.

"Just that, judging by the way they looked at each other, she's going to get married pretty darn quick... Young Doc looked smitten, and, to be honest, so did she. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I'm not sure you can keep them apart. They're both grown, even if Cassie is young."

"You think he'll want to _marry_ her?" Jeb said, and the surprise in his voice caused Wade to look at him sharply.

"Well, yes. You mean you thought he just wanted to - what, take her behind the barn?"

"Things like that happen more often than you'd think," Jeb said. A faint note of bitterness in his voice surprised Wade; _So__mething personal there,_ he thought._ Something that really hurt._

Wade nodded. "I imagine it does," he said calmly. "I'll talk to Young Doc, make sure he understands that's unacceptable, but I don't think there's anything to worry about. He's a nice man, and a good one; he'll see what kind of girl Cassie is."

"He'd better," Jeb said darkly. "I'm going to go take care of the horses; let me know when you're ready to leave, okay?"

The dimness of the barn kept it cooler than most places on the farm, but Jeb worked up a sweat with the amount of effort that he put into brushing Daisy and Miss Molly, the mare Wade had been riding. He had just about worked himself calm again when he saw a shadow on the ground behind him; turning, he saw Young Doc behind him, and felt his anger stir again.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly, ignoring the fact that it wasn't even his barn. The other man could have a dozen reasons for being there, none of them to do with him. But Jeb knew better.

"I wanted to talk to you," Young Doc said, and Jeb shrugged, turning back to Daisy, brushing the Irish Draft Horse with great attention to detail.

"About what?" he asked, sure that he already knew. He wanted to talk about Cassie, of course. He wanted to make sure that Jeb would not cause problems for him.

"Ella," Young Doc said. "I wanted to talk to you about Ella."

Jeb turned back to look at Young Doc, his eyes narrowed. "Ella?" he said. "I thought it was going to be Cassie."

Young Doc looked a little embarrassed, but he met Jeb's eyes levelly. "The time for that might come, although it would be just a formality. She's old enough to make her own decisions."

"People keep telling me that," Jeb said. "So what do you want to tell me about Ella?"

"Did you ever meet her husband?" Young Doc said.

"No," Jeb said shortly. The thought of Ella's husband irritated him unreasonably. He knew that she had one, of course, but he preferred not to think much about it.

"When he and his family came here for the wedding, I met him," Young Doc said. "I lived in Atlanta that year, if you remember, doing my internship, following Dr Meade and Dr Abbott around, so I probably spent as much time with the wedding party as Wade did."

"I suppose you're going to tell me what a nice fella he is," Jeb said.

"No, in fact, I'm not," Young Doc said. "I didn't like him. I thought he was snotty and spoiled and thought way too highly of himself. What I saw was a man who had never really been tested, and I've always been afraid that eventually he would let Ella down. I'm really sorry to see that it seems to have happened."

"Has she told you that?" Jeb asked.

"No. No one has said anything to me. But she arrived here unexpectedly – well, you know that – spent a couple of days moping around, and now is making plans to set up a business here. All that made me suspicious, but what really clinched the deal is the way she looks at you. Of course, you look at her the same way, so I know you know what I'm talking about."

"You mean the way you were looking at my cousin awhile ago?"

Young Doc sighed. "Yeah, like that," he admitted. "But the problem is, she's married, Jeb. And her husband is not the kind of man who is at all likely to be complacent about his wife having a lover. He would regard that as losing, and to him, it would be simply unacceptable."

"That's a poor way for a man to feel about his wife," Jeb said, his mouth twisting with distaste. "You make it sound like all he feels for her is some kind of pride, like she's a possession he bought."

Young Doc seemed to think about it, then he nodded. "That describes it as well as anything. It isn't love – certainly nothing that would consider giving up any of his comforts to tend to hers – but it probably describes his emotions pretty well. And even though Ella might think she's prepared to ignore him, there's one thing you probably haven't considered."

"We haven't considered anything," Jeb grumbled. "I've never even had a conversation with her that her mother wouldn't think was perfectly proper."

Young Doc grinned. "You might be surprised at Aunt Scarlett's ideas of propriety. But that's not really the point. The point is that unless I'm very wrong, you've thought about having those kinds of conversations with her. Unless I miss my guess completely you've thought about it _a lot. _And the reason I'm standing here talking to you about what is really not any of my business -"

"Wondered when you'd realize that," Jeb muttered.

"- is because I've had reason to study the laws as they relate to women and their children. And the law on the matter of custody is pretty clear. If there is a divorce action, the husband gets custody of the children if he wants them. There are no exceptions, not even if he has been proven to be cruel or indifferent to their well-being. The laws on the books read differently – I understand that the English law was updated a few years ago so that women are at least allowed to sue for custody of the children, but I've never heard of a case where a woman succeeded in getting custody. Not one. Is Ella willing to take that chance? More importantly, are you willing to let her? Losing her children would destroy her, Jeb. You know that, if you know anything about her at all."

"I know," Jeb said, frowning. "I didn't know the laws were so biased. How do you know so much about it, anyway?"

Young Doc shrugged. "I'm a doctor. I see a lot of the private side of people's life. I bet I could tell you the name of every man in the county who regularly beats his wife. I don't mean a swat on the behind, either; some of these men break bones and leave their wives' so damaged they can't do their regular duties. Several women who have a reputation for 'poor health,' or a 'frail constitution,' really suffer from nothing more than too many beatings. You'd be surprised." He sighed. "When I first found out about it, I tried to encourage some of the worst victims to leave. That's when they told me that they would lose their children if they did. I looked into it; I thought there had to be an exception for wives who were beaten that brutally, but they were right. No exceptions, even when the beatings were proven."

"That's horrible," Jeb said, his voice grim. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

Young Doc shrugged. "I've done what I can," he said. "A few of the worst offenders have received late night visits from a group of gentlemen who very strongly recommend that the beatings stop. A few of the beaters have needed a second visit, where they learn about the aches and pains of recovering from a serious beating first-hand. So far, no one has required a third visit."

Jeb nodded. "Good," he said, smiling with more warmth at Young Doc.

"Will you at least think about what I said about Ella?" Young Doc pressed.

"I'll think about it,"Jeb answered.

* * *

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated. My mom's health continues to be a concern, and like I have said before, I have to have big chunks of time to write. I have at least got all the details worked out, so I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going with this; all I need is the time to capture it on my hard drive. **

**Thanks for all the reviews. I've read and enjoyed every one of them. I'm still spending large portions of my day at the hospital, so I haven't had time to answer, but they cheer me up considerably. It may be a few days before I'm able to update again, so I hope you'll try to be patient with me. Thanks for reading!**


	20. The Search for Rodney

**The Search For Rodney**

* * *

After Wade had spent a quiet hour with Sally Jo and William, he rode back to Tara with Young Doc and Jeb. Wade did not look forward to the confrontation that he knew lay ahead, but he still hoped that overt violence could be avoided. Rodney had to be found, he could not compromise on that issue, but afterward, perhaps he could come to an agreement with the people who lived here, huddled in the leaky, drafty cottages on the banks of the river. Jeb was right; some of the men chose not to work, but others had been given very little say in how they ended up living in the shanty-town.

His preoccupation had not gone unnoticed. Young Doc gave him a concerned look as he dismounted. "Are you all right?" his friend whispered. "Because you look like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, instead of a man who just got his kidnapped son back."

Wade avoided the other man's gaze. "I'm fine, Joe. Just hoping this search this afternoon goes well. We need to find Rodney."

Young Doc nodded. "I suppose we do," he answered. "Maybe Jeb can help keep the risk of violence to a minimum. I'm like you; I don't want to burn the settlement out if there's any other way to do it. It means making sure enemies of those people, and like Ella always reminds us, there are children living there."

Wade nodded, his mouth set in a tight line. "You're right. I just don't much look forward to it." He didn't tell Young Doc that it was the question of what to do with Rodney afterward that disturbed him the most. Just putting him on a ship back to England no longer seemed like enough, but killing him outright went against all of Wade's instincts. He sighed, and followed the other men to the back yard, where the builders who had searched for William had just finished their meal.

They fell silent when they saw him. Finally one man, braver than the rest, called out, "Hey, boss! It true, you got your boy back?"

Wade forced himself to smile and nod. "It's true, Charlie," he said. "Turns out the man who kidnapped him was pretty incompetent; couldn't even keep a six-year-old tied up. William escaped and hid until he could get word back to us where he was."

A cheer went up, and it lightened Wade's heart to see that these men really did seem glad that William was safe. The last few days had shown him a glimpse of himself as an unkind, hard-hearted landowner, and he did not much care for the image. He found it reassuring to realize that these men, most of whom were little better off than the shanty-town dwellers, did not seem to hate or fear him, even though he _was_ their boss.

He went to Rhett. "I don't think we should take all the men with us," he said.

Rhett looked surprised. "The more searchers we have, the quicker we can find them," he pointed out mildly.

"Yes, but it occurs to me that if a man came to my house with an army at his back and demanded that I do something, I'd be likely to get my dander up and refuse, even if what he wanted was reasonable."

Rhett looked surprised. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted. "But you're right. Maybe we look at them as extra searchers, but the people who live there would probably see a lot of men as trying to intimidate them. We should get Alex and Beau to pick a few of the men to go with us – they'll know which ones are most likely to be able to keep their tempers and not let trouble get started if someone lets out an insult."

Wade nodded, relieved that Rhett agreed with him. "We can put the others back to work. Alex can stay here to supervise -"

"Now that's an excellent idea. Alex is a good man, but he's always had a hot temper. Better to leave him here, where he can be useful." Rhett clapped Wade on the back. "You know, you'd have made a good soldier, son. You have the instinct for organizing your men – and you understand what so many military men never realize – that you can't solve everything with a direct fight. Sometimes, if you use your head a little, you don't have to fight at all."

Wade smiled at his stepfather; for a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the older man's approval. He felt the way William looked, when Wade took the time to show interest in what the boy was doing. Wade vowed, as he turned away, that he would do more of that in the future.

It took very little time to arrange matters to Wade' satisfaction. Jeb agreed that fewer men meant less chance of trouble, but to their surprise, he balked at leaving Alex behind. "It's true he has a quick temper, and that might cause problems," Jeb told them. "But several of the men who live there served with him in the army. I've heard them tell the stories. They remember him as the kind of commander who went without food and blankets if there weren't enough for everyone. They remember him wearing boots with holes in them and leaving bloody footprints behind in the snow. He has a reputation for being even-handed and fair. Those men respect him."

Wade thought about it, then agreed, hoping that the good would outweigh the bad.

* * *

They approached the settlement cautiously, stopping a hundred or so yards away and dismounting, securing the horses so they could approach on foot. Though no one was visible when they caught sight of the first tiny cabin, they must have been expected, for by the time they were all gathered beside that cabin, a group of men stood blocking the muddy road that led to the rest of the community. Several women stood watching from doorways, but there was neither sight nor sound of children.

"What you doin' here?" one of the men asked, his bleary voice fitting in well with his unwashed appearance. "This ain't your place, Mr Wade."

"Some of you may know that my son was kidnapped a few days ago -" Wade began.

"That don't have nothin' to do with us," the man said, spitting a stream of tobacco-juice on the ground. "Besides, I heard he's back home. So why ain't you there with your wife and young'un, 'stead of out here botherin' honest folks?"

A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd.

Wade spoke quickly, knowing that it would be easy to lose control of the situation if he hesitated. "It does have something to do with you," he said, his voice firm. "When my son awoke, he was in a cabin here. He escaped, but we need to search for the man he has identified as the one who took him."

"Yer sayin' it were one of us?" An aggressive-looking man with a long, tobacco-stained beard stepped forward. Wade recognized him.

"No, Wayne Furley, I'm not. I don't think anyone from here is stupid enough to try something like this, even on the spur of the moment." Wade saw smiles, even heard a chuckle or two. More relieved than he wanted to admit, he went on, "But he was using the cabin of one of the people who do live here, and even though I know that Emmielou Wilkerson had no hand in the kidnapping, and wanted no part of it when she found out what he had done, I still need to talk to her. I need to know if she knows where he might be, and I need to search the town just in case he might have hidden himself here."

"You're sayin' it was Emmilou's fancy man who did it?" Wayne asked. He glanced around at the other men in his group. "Well, ain't none of our business to pertect an outsider from trouble he caused his own self. I say we let 'em search, boys, even though I don't think he's here. Don't think either of them are here, come to that."

A few voices rose in dissent, but the overwhelming majority of the men seemed pretty much indifferent, now that it was clear that Wade wasn't after one of them. Wade thought they had managed pretty well, until a voice from the back of the crowd rose in protest.

"So that's it?" Emmielou screeched. "Just because the man he's looking for isn't one of you, you're going to roll over like a pack of yellow-bellied dogs? He's still one of the men who run this place, one of the men who make sure that your children can't get no schoolin' so's they'll be stuck here ferever. One of the men who won't come when there's illness, or a woman in childbed, but only when there's a girl he wants to stroll in the moonlight with -"

Wade glanced at Young Doc, who shook his head ever-so-slightly. He didn't know what she was talking about, either.

"Oh, come on, Emmielou," Jeb said, laughing. "It's been at least five years since I asked you to walk in the moonlight with me -"

Apparently, that was a joke; Wade didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but several of the men laughed, and the ones who had begun to remember the grudge they held against the landowners relaxed subtly, turning away to spit their tobacco juice to the side. Jeb had defused the situation, though Wade didn't have the slightest idea what the joke had been.

Emmielou knew, though. She backed away quickly, her eyes scanning the crowd, fruitlessly looking for allies. She turned and glared at them, and the unreasoning hatred in her face gave Wade cold shivers down his spine. "Just you wait, Jeb Hatcher," she yelled as she disappeared into the woods. "There'll come a day when I can do you as badly as you've done me today, and when it happens, I'll take my chance. See if I don't."

"What was that about?" Wade asked Jeb.

Jeb shrugged. "I'll tell you later," he said.

Wade nodded. Jeb had a point; this wasn't really the time or place.

"Do you want us to go after her?" Rhett asked, tilting his head in the direction Emmielou had taken.

"No," Wade said after a minute of consideration. "We wouldn't gain anything. She knows these woods well enough to lose anyone we sent after her, and even if we did find her, she wouldn't answer any questions we asked. Not honestly, anyway."

Wade set the men into a search pattern; they had already been told to ignore any contraband they found unless they were certain that it was involved in the kidnapping. Wade himself stayed in the middle of the little settlement, scanning the woods around them for signs that Rodney was trying to escape. He saw nothing, and the men gradually filtered back to cluster around him, their expressions grim. The stark poverty of this place was a reminder, to many of them, of places they had lived – and might again, if they weren't careful, and lucky.

"That's all of them," Alex said, shaking his head. Wade found it impossible to hide his relief.

"What, you didn't want to find him?" the older man asked, looking quizzically at him.

Wade sighed. "If we found him, I'd have to decide what to do with him," he said. Alex nodded, but Wade wasn't sure he really understood. Alex had been a soldier; killing didn't mean the same thing to him that it did to Wade.

"Okay, we're done here, I think," Alex said. Wade nodded, and walked back with the other men to where they left the horses. Wade would not have been too surprised to find them gone, and a long walk ahead of them, but the beasts stood in a long row, stolidly munching on the grain that someone – probably Jeb – had provided for them.

"Wait a minute," Wade said. He glanced up at his stepfather, then away, uneasily aware that he hadn't really talked to Rhett about what he wanted to do. Something seemed to tell him that the time to do this was now, before he lost the real desire to fix things. "I need to go back and talk to some of the men in the shanty-town," he told Rhett.

"What about?" Rhett asked, frowning. Wanting to spend time in the shabby little community near the river seemed unlike Wade.

"I just need to talk to them," Wade said, shifting from one foot to the other. Rhett's eyes narrowed as the two men looked at each other, and Wade could tell that Rhett was suspicious of why he wanted to go back. This wasn't the time to try to explain to Rhett everything he was thinking, though he would have to get with Rhett about it if the project he had in mind was going to work. Alex and Beau, too. But not today.

Rhett opened his mouth to speak, but Wade never found out what he intended to say. Jeb interrupted him, and at the moment, Wade was grateful. "Wade, I just remembered. There are two or three little shacks, even more rundown than the rest of them, in a clearing around the bend of the river. I forgot about them, 'cause no lives there anymore; the clearing is on lower ground, and it floods almost every time it rains."

Wade nodded. "It sounds like the kind of place where Emmielou might have stashed Rodney," he commented. "I guess we'd better search them."

"We'll come along," Rhett said firmly.

Wade sighed, knowing there was no way to dissuade his stepfather from coming along. He just hoped that he could have his conversation with the locals without any direct interference from the older man.

Jeb sent the workers back to the construction site with Beau, and the other five men rode towards the river.

It took very little time to find the cottages. They were very close to the river, and the reason they no one used them became clear as soon as Wade saw them. The river had undercut the bank here, probably in the bad flooding that occurred five summers ago, and two of the three cottages leaned precariously while the third showed every sign of having been under water several times.

"Shouldn't take long to search," Alex said, dismounting and handing the reins to Rhett. There's only one room per cottage, and I doubt there's even any furniture to search around."

He checked the first cottage; other than the door that came off in his hand when he tugged on it, he found nothing of interest. The same, minus the door malfunction, happened with the second cottage. But when he entered the third cottage, the one so close to the river that he actually had to step into the water to get to the front door, he was gone for longer than any of the watchers expected. "Probably found some furniture to look under," Rhett said.

"Probably," Wade agreed, but a cold feeling began to fill him, and he was not surprised when Alex emerged and waved them over.

The men dismounted, tied the horses, and walked over to where Alex stood on the stoop of the derelict cottage.

"Rodney is inside," Alex said. "He's dead. Someone hit him over the head and killed him."

* * *

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Family problems and my own health issues have either kept me away from the computer or from having any desire to write when I do have time. I have got the next several chapters blocked out, however, so I do know where I'm trying to go. **

**So... who do you think killed Rodney?**

**Review if you'd like to. I haven't had time to answer reviews, but they all brightened my life through some recent dark times. Thanks for reading (I hope someone still is!).**


	21. As Much Trouble Dead As Alive

**As Much Trouble Dead As** **Alive**

* * *

Wade stared at Alex, his eyes widening in disbelief. For a moment, he could not think of anything to say. "Dead?" he finally croaked in voice raspy with surprise. "But when- how-"

"Like I said, someone hit him over the head," Alex said. "As far as when, it's hard to say for sure, but all the signs indicate that he's been dead for at least thirty-six hours, maybe a little longer."

"How do you know that?" Rhett asked, dismounting and moving to the door of the cabin, staring at Alex, who shrugged.

"I don't, but Young Doc does. Says it has to do with the amount of rigor in the body, and the blood pooling. He seems pretty sure, though."

Wade joined the other two men. "At least I don't have to decide whether or not to kill him now," he said. This close to the cabin, he could smell a faint but unpleasant odor of putrefaction, and had no trouble believing that a dead body lay within.

Rhett glanced sharply at him. "Did you do it?" he asked bluntly.

Wade blinked in surprise. "Did I—" he stopped and stared at his step-father, understanding what he meant. "No," he said. "No."

"I'm not going to hold it against you if you did," Rhett said. "Hell, Alex and I were urging you to do it just a little while ago, and I think both of us thought it would be less trouble if _someone_ killed him. But if you did it, I need to know, so I can keep you out of legal difficulties for it - to the best of my ability, at least."

"I didn't do it," he said, meeting Rhett's eyes squarely. "Just aside from anything else, Uncle Rhett, if I had done it, do you think I would have been so stupid as to lead a posse here, to the very place where his body lay?"

"This was the logical place to look, though," Alex said, doubt in his voice. "I don't think you could have kept us from coming here."

"No, but I had all of last night to make sure that there wasn't a body when you came," Wade said, his eyes narrowing at this lack of trust, though his voice remained calm. "If I had killed him, there wouldn't have been anything here for you to find." Shouldering past the other two men, he entered the cabin, hoping the sight wouldn't be unbearable. Unlike Alex and Rhett, he had never been to war.

"What killed him, Young Doc?" he asked, breathing through his mouth as much as possible. The smell wasn't really that bad— not yet— but the awareness that this unpleasant odor emanated from what had once been human made it much more repellent.

"A hard blow to the back of the head," his friend told him. "And since the killer— whoever it was— obligingly left the weapon behind, I think we can safely say that it was done with the blunt edge of an ax." He indicated the worn, battered-looking tool that lay on the floor only inches from the corpse; the dull edge was matted with gore and hair. Wade turned away sharply, feeling his gorge rise.

"And it happened - when?"

"Rigor is almost completely gone, the body its at room temperature, and lividity is set," Young Doc said. "My best guess is somewhere between twenty-four and thirty-six hours ago."

"I- um- I guess we need to get the sheriff, then," Wade said; a queasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the rage in Sheriff Campbell's eyes when Rhett ordered him out of Tara the other evening.

"I don't think we can do that," Rhett said from behind him.

"Why not?" Wade asked, turning to face him.

"Because the sheriff knows that there was a period of time— a couple of hours— when you were not where you were supposed to be," Rhett said. And that was -what? A little more than thirty-six hours ago?"

Awareness dawned. "You mean he'll think I did it," Wade said flatly.

Rhett nodded. "Almost certainly. I mean, you even mentioned that you stopped just short of the shanty town. Even if he didn't think he had a grudge against our family, he'd probably think you did it. You had the motive, and the opportunity, and the means may very well be something that was just laying here, waiting for someone to use it."

Wade nodded slowly. He didn't like it, but he could see Rhett's point'

"So what are we going to do with him?" Jeb asked, after a moment. He had been so quiet that the other men had forgotten his presence. "Drop him in the river and forget him?"

Wade hesitated. The idea was tempting, so very tempting.

"Only as a last resort," he said. "Too many people knew Rodney was here, and too many other people knew he intended to come here. If he disappears, there will be questions, and sooner or later, an official investigation. We can't afford that."

"So what can we do?" Alex asked. "Let him stay here until the stink attracts someone's attention and he's found? Wouldn't that lead to the same kind of investigation?"

"Is there any way it can be made to look like an accident?" Jeb asked.

"Young Doc hesitated. "If there were something he could have hit his head on—" he said. "But there isn't anything here."

"No, we'd have to take him somewhere else," Jeb responded. "Somewhere that does have a place where he could have hit his head. Would a rock do it, Young Doc?"

The physician shook his head. "Not an ordinary rock. You see, the skull is broken, and any half-way competent doctor would be able to tell that it was with a very hard blow from a long, thin edge. Not thin enough to be sharp, but thin enough to cause a straight, narrow fracture. I don't think the sheriff is smart enough to see it, but he would almost certainly get someone to examine the body who would."

"Could it have been something made of wood? The edge of a shelf, maybe?"

Joe hesitated, then shook his head. "No. If the sheriff doesn't investigate thoroughly, you might could get away with that, but any competent doctor would be able to tell from the wound itself. If it had been made with a wooden edge, you would expect two things. First, the wood would have been dented—wood just isn't as hard as bone. And second, that denting would cause fragments of wood to be embedded in the wound—deep in it, and there's no way I could re-create that for you. Now it's possible that the sheriff will just get me or the doctor from Jonesborough to certify that the man's dead, but we can't count on that. As much as the sheriff is currently holding a grudge against certain members of our family, he's love to do something to embarrass us. My guess is, he'll call for a thorough investigation, and bring down a specialist from Atlanta to see what trouble he can stir up."

"So the wound has to have been caused by a metal edge?" Jeb asked.

"Not necessarily. It has to be a long, thin edge made of something that wouldn't break when it hit the head."

"Maybe we could find an edge of rock near the river?" Jeb suggested tentatively.

"And how would we explain why he laid there for a whole day and no one found him?" Joe asked reasonably. "This is the country, but it's not the dark side of the moon. People are up and down this riverbank all the time— men hunting, kids fishing. Someone would have seen him. No, it needs to be someplace hidden, someplace where no one goes, at least not often."

"You said it could be a stone edge, though? Doesn't have to be metal?" Alex asked from the doorway.

"Joe nodded at his uncle. "Yeah, stone would work, as long as it was heavy, and had a thin edge that could cause the wound."

"I know where it could have happened, then," Alex said triumphantly. "I know where he could have fallen, and accidentally done this to himself."

* * *

"So how did you happen to think of this?" Wade asked Alex, trying to keep his attention from where Rhett and Young Doc, with Jeb's help, were positioning Rodney on the stone floor of the springhouse. The tiny room was too cramped to allow all of them to help, so Wade and Alex stood back towards the entrance to let the others work. To tell the truth, Wade didn't mind at all; dealing with a dead body was unpleasant work, at best.

"You have your sisters to thank for that," Alex said, with a quick smile. "The twins, I mean, not Ella."

"What did they do?" Wade asked, with interest.

"On your wedding day, they snuck in here to get a watermelon," Alex told him. "Only they dropped one in the water channel, and they didn't know it would block the outflow pipe. So when it did, the water rose, and I happened to see it running under the door—"

Wade laughed. "I remember," he said. "You came up to the house soaking wet, and I loaned you some dry clothes—"

"Yes, and I had a talk with your sister. Katie, not Lanie; Katie has more sense. I explained to her about the outflow pipe, and how debris can block it and cause the water to rise and overflow the channel. I also talked to Rhett about getting a _real _latch for the door, not the simple one that was there before. He thought about keeping it locked, but we decided it would be too much trouble, since the servants are in and out all the time. We put it up high enough tat the girls couldn't reach it—not then, anyway. I suppose they can now."

Wade nodded. "Not having a lock is a good thing, too. It makes this easier; we could always break the lock and say that Rodney had done it, but the fewer lies we have to tell, the better. Sometimes it's the simplest things that get you caught."

Wade nodded, grimly turning his attention back to where Wade and Jeb carefully arranged the body. Rodney had to be lying just so; Young Doc told them that the sheriff would be able to tell if it was off by more than a little, because the blood had pooled in the lower parts of his body, causing them to have a bruised appearance.

When they were done, a suitably gory scene had been set. Rodney lay on his back, just as they found him in the shanty, with one arm flung out. His head was just at the stone lip that edged the pool, and Young Doc pronounced himself satisfied with his position.

"Now we need some blood," he told them. The men looked startled. "Enough to make it look as if he bled a little. Plain gravity might have caused a little pool of blood, and it's possible that he lived for a while after being injured, although I rather doubt it."

"You can take a little of mine," Wade said promptly. Young Doc nodded and produced a knife from his pocket. He used it to nick Wade's wrist, and directed the resulting flow of blood onto the stone, first around Rodney's head, then on the edge of the stone shelf where his head would have hit if he had indeed died the way they hoped to convince everyone that he had.

"There, that should be enough," he said at last; quickly, he applied pressure to Wade's wrist until the bleeding stopped, then wrapped a gauze bandage around it. "Keep that clean and it ought to heal fine," he advised Wade.

He looked around the small room, checking to make sure they had not forgotten anything. In spite of their best efforts, the very air here seemed uneasy, as though warning them that this was a bad idea. Young Doc shook off the feeling; they had no choice now but to play this out. It was too late to change their minds now.

* * *

Wade and Sally Jo spent the night at his mother's house that night. Wade knew that the discovery of Rodney's body would come soon, and he wanted to be there for it.

He and Sally Jo were in the kitchen, eating breakfast with the children. As always, total chaos reigned as the children chattered and argued and readied themselves for school. After much pleading on Lori's part, Ella had decided to allow Lori to go with her uncles to school, and Sophie was sulking because, at four, she was deemed too young to go as well. Ella tried rather fruitlessly to explain that she wold have more time to spend with Sophie doing 'fun' things, but the child refused to be comforted.

Only when the six older children had gone did the two youngest settle down. As they attended to their neglected breakfast, Ella became aware that Wade was extremely nervous. He kept tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, which had been a nervous tic of his since childhood, and whenever he wasn't directly speaking to someone, his gaze wandered towards the window that overlooked the back yard.

_He's nervous,_ Ella thought. _Nervous as a dog that's been at the chickens. Something is wrong, and Wade knows it._

Glancing at her mother, she saw that the older woman was also watching Wade, her eyes narrowed. The only person who seemed completely relaxed was Sally Jo; in the euphoria of having her son back, she paid little attention to anything else. Only with difficulty had she been persuaded to allow the boy to go to school today; if he hadn't been determined, she would probably have kept him home where she could keep an eye on him.

Ella heard a rider outside. Glancing up, she saw her cousin Beau ambling up the path. If something was wrong, he showed no signs of knowing it; he whistled as he pushed open the little gate that blocked the path to the back door.

"Are you ready for work?" he called, seeing Wade sitting there. "Morning, Aunt Scarlett, Uncle Rhett, Ella. Wade is supposed to come with me to Jonesborough and get that lumber, remember?"

Wade threw down his napkin and rose to his feet. "I'd forgotten, in all the excitement," he said, glancing at Rhett. "I don't—"

Whatever he had been going to say was lost as a high-pitched scream came from the back yard. Ella jumped up. "What on earth?" she asked, peering out the window. "That sounds like Prissy."

She saw Wade turn, saw the look he gave Rhett, and knew that neither man was surprised. _Whatever this is, they've been expecting it all morning, _Ella thought.

"Well, we'd better go see what's the matter," Rhett said, and the five of them joined Beau in the back yard.

* * *

**I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. My mother's health problems have become chronic, and caring for her is requiring more of my attention.**

**I hope there are still a few people out there who are interested in reading. Review and let me know if you still want to see this story finished!**


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